The day that I was christened– It’s a hundred years, and more!- A hag came and listened At the white church door, A-hearing her that bore me

Oh, I should like to ride the sea… A roaring buccaneer; A cutlass banging at my knees, A dirk behind my ear. And when my captives’ chains would…

Then let them point my every tear, And let them mock and moan; Another week, another year, And I’ll be with my own Who slumber now by night and day

My answers are inadequate To those demanding day and date And ever set a tiny shock Through strangers asking what’s o’… Whose days are spent in whittling…

Chloe’s hair, no doubt, was bright… Lydia’s mouth more sweetly sad; Hebe’s arms were rather whiter; Languorous-lidded Helen had Eyes more blue than e’er the sky w…

Every love’s the love before In a duller dress. That’s the measure of my lore– Here’s my bitterness: Would I knew a little more,

The first time I died, I walked m… I followed the file of limping day… I held me tall, with my head flung… But I dared not look on the new m… I dared not look on the sweet youn…

Her mind lives in a quiet room, A narrow room, and tall, With pretty lamps to quench the gl… And mottoes on the wall. There all the things are waxen nea…

This is what I vow; He shall have my heart to keep, Sweetly will we stir and sleep, All the years, as now. Swift the measured sands may run;

Too long and quickly have I lived… The woe that stretches me shall ne… Too often seen the end of endless… To swear that peace no more shall… I know, I know– again the shrivel…

Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.

My garden blossoms pink and white, A place of decorous murmuring, Where I am safe from August night And cannot feel the knife of Spri… And I may walk the pretty place

Upon the work of Walter Landor I am unfit to write with candor. If you can read it, well and good; But as for me, I never could.

... So, praise the gods, Catullus… And let me tend you this advice, m… Take any lover that you will, or m… Except a poet. All of them are qu… It’s just the same– a quarrel or a…

He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease