The rustling of the silk is discon… Dust drifts over the court-yard, There is no sound of foot-fall, an… Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart…

Come, my songs, let us speak of pe… We shall get ourselves rather disl… Ah yes, my songs, let us resurrect The very excellent term Rusticus. Let us apply it in all its opprobr…

Rest me with Chinese colours, For I think the glass is evil. The wind moves above the wheat– With a silver crashing, A thin war of metal.

“Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead. Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all… And weave ye him his coronal.” “There is no summer in the leaves, And withered are the sedges;

“'Tis but a vague, invarious delig… As gold that rains about some buri… As the fine flakes, When tourists frolicking Stamp on his roof or in the glazin…

Erinna is a model parent, Her children have never discovered… Lalage is also a model parent, Her offspring are fat and happy.

Lord God of heaven that with merc… Th’alternate prayer wheel of the n… Eternal hath to thee, and in whose… Our days as rain drops in the sea… As bright white drops upon a leade…

This man knew out the secret ways… No man could paint such things who… And now she’s gone, who was his C… And you are here, who are ‘The Is… And here’s the thing that lasts th…

To me at my fifth-floor window The chimney-pots in rows Are sets of pipes pandean For every wind that blows; And the smoke that whirls and eddi…

The Past was goodly once, and yet… The best of it we know is that it’… Dwindled and faded quite, perished… Nothing is left at last of what on… Coming back like a ghost, staring…

This boat is of shato-wood, and it… magnolia, Musicians with jewelled flutes and… Fill full the sides in rows, and o… Is rich for a thousand cups.

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…

Young men riding in the street In the bright new season Spur without reason Causing their steeds to leap. And at the pace they keep

The surges gushed and sounded, The blue was the blue of June, And low above the brightening east Floated a shred of moon. The woods were black and solemn,

Come, let us pity those who are be… Come, my friend, and remember       t hat the rich have butlers… And we have friends and no butlers… Come, let us pity the married and…