The cigarette-smoke loops and slid… Dipping and swirling as the waiter… You strike a match and stare upon… The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a… And dwindles away as silently as i…

He, in the room above, grown old a… She, in the room below—his floor h… Pursue their separate dreams. He… And throws himself on the bed, fac… She, by the window, smiles at a st…

Harsh, harsh, the maram grass on t… seen by the cricket’€™s eye agains… anchor-frost and seaward, the ligh… the bellbuoy-beating moon, the tid… ringing above deep channels and ol…

It is night time, and cold, and sn… And no wind grieves the walls. In the small world of light around… A swarm of snowflakes falls and fa… The street grows silent. The last…

Let me not shrink at sight of deat… Nor waste in grief an idle breath.… You whom I loved are one with cla… The brightness in your eyes is gon… I shall not meet your face to-day;

Now, when the moon slid under the… And the cold clear dark of starlig… He heard in his blood the well-kno… Tolling slowly in heaves of sound, Slowly beating, slowly beating,

The first soft snowflakes hovering… From one white cloud that hurries… Whispering over the black unfrozen… Silently falling on withered leave… Eddying slowly among bare boughs o…

I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more t… And bread I broke with you was mo… Now that I am without you, all is… All that was once so beautiful is…

Grasshopper grasshopper all day long we hear your scraping summer song

We will go no more to Shaemus, at… for sly innuendo and an Oporto Fl… the rough but tender voice, the wi… the steady-unsteady hand that pour… memory, that flew back years to fi…

Suddenly, after the quarrel, while… Disheartened, silent, with downcas… Eyelid nor finger, hopeless both,… Against all hope to unsay the sund… While all the room’s stillness dee…

While the blue noon above us arche… And the poplar sheds disconsolate… Tell me again why love bewitches, And what love gives. It is the trembling finger that tr…

The music of the morning is red an… Snow lies against the walls; And on the sloping roof in the yel… Pigeons huddle against the wind. The music of evening is attenuated…

Goya drew a pig on a wall. The five-year-old hairdresser’s so… Saw, graved on a silver tray, The lion; and sunsets were begun. Goya smelt the bull-fight blood.

After the movie, when the lights c… He takes her powdered hand behind… She, all in yellow, like a butterc… Lifts her white face, yearns up to… And with a silent, gliding step th…