#English
With delicate, mad hands, behind h… Surely he hath his posies, which t… Those scentless wisps of straw, th… His strait, caged universe, wherea… Pedant and pitiful. O, how his ra…
They are not long, the weeping and… Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us… We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of win…
I the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird.
We have walked in Love’s land a l… We have learnt his lesson a little… And shall we not part at the end o… With a sigh, a smile? A little while in the shine of the…
Because I am idolotrous and have… With grievous supplication and con… The admirable image that my love h… Out of her swan’s neck and her dar… The jealous gods who brook no wors…
Beyond the need of weeping, Beyond the reach of hands, May she be quietly sleeping, In what dim nebulous lands? Ah, she who understands!
All the moon-shed nights are over, And the days of gray and dun; There is neither may nor clover, And the day and night are one. Not an hamlet, not a city
Come hither, child, and rest, This is the end of day, Behold the weary West! Sleep rounds with equal zest Man’s toil and children’s play,
By the sad waters of separation Where we have wandered by divers w… I have but the shadow and imitatio… Of the old memorial days. In music I have no consolation,
The wisdom of the world said unto… ‘_Go forth and run, the race is to… Perchance some honour tarrieth for… ‘As tarrieth,’ I said, ‘for sure,… For I had pondered on a rune of r…
A song of the setting sun! The sky in the west is red, And the day is all but done: While yonder up overhead, All too soon,
Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphr… Long have I served thine altars,… Let me have peace of thee, truce o… Heart of my heart have I offered… Yielding my life for the love of t…
Mark the day white, on which the… Eugenio and Egeria have a child. On whom abundant grace kind Jove… If she but copy either parent’s pa… Then, Muses! long devoted to her…
Beyond the pale of memory, In some mysterious dusky grove; A place of shadows utterly, Where never coos the turtle-dove, A world forgotten of the sun:
I watched the glory of her childho… Half-sorrowful to find the child… (Loved long ago in lily-time), Become a maid, mysterious and stra… With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes,…