The sky-like limpid eyes, The circular infant’s face, The stiffness from spats to collar Never relaxing into grace; The heavy memories of Horeb, Sina…

The spring, my dear, Is no longer spring. Does the blackbird sing What he sang last year? Are the skies the old

The ways of Death are soothing an… And all the words of Death are gr… From camp and church, the fireside… She beckons forth– and strife and… A summer night descending cool and…

Golden rose the house, in the port… thee, a marvel, carven in subtle s… portent. Life died down in the lam… caught at the wonder. Crimson, frosty with dew, the rose…

DIFFERENCE OF OPINION W… LYGDAMUS Tell me the truths which you hear… Lygdamus, And may the bought yoke of a mistr…

Gone while your tastes were keen t… Gone where the grey winds call to… By that high fencer, even Death, Struck of the blade that no man pa… Such is your fence, one saith,

Her little face is like a walnut s… With wrinkling lines; her soft, wh… Her withered brows in quaint, stra… And all about her clings an old, s… Prim is her gown and quakerlike he…

Leucis, who intended a Grand Pass… Ends with a willingness-to-oblige.

The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, Giulio Romano,

The sea is full of wandering foam, The sky of driving cloud; My restless thoughts among them ro… The night is dark and loud. Where are the hours that came to m…

“Time’s bitter flood”! Oh, that’s… But where’s the old friend hasn’t… Or slacked his hand-grip when you… I know your circle and can fairly… What you have kept and what you’ve…

O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already.

You came in out of the night And there were flowers in your han… Now you will come out of a confusi… Out of a turmoil of speech about y… I who have seen you amid the prima…