I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,

Rest Master, for we be a-weary, w… And would feel the fingers of the… Upon these lids that lie over us Sodden and lead-heavy. Rest brother, for lo! the dawn is…

What is to come we know not. But… That what has been was good—was go… Better to hide, and best of all to… We are the masters of the days tha… We have lived, we have loved, we h…

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,

‘We are 'ere met together in this momentous hower, Ter lick th’ bankers’ dirty boots an’ keep the Bank in power. We are 'ere met together

The Sword Singing - The voice of the Sword from the h… Clanging imperious Forth from Time’s battlements

IN o more for us the little sighi… No more the winds at twilight trou… Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of w…

When earth’s last thesis is copied From the theses that went before, When idea from fact has departed And bare—boned factlets shall bore… When all joy shall have fled from…

They say the roads of Sanso are s… Sheer as the mountains. The walls rise in a man’s face, Clouds grow out of the hill at his horse’s bridle.

Thou keep’st thy rose-leaf Till the rose-time will be over, Think’st thou that Death will kis… Think’st thou that the Dark House Will find thee such a lover

In vain have I striven, to teach my heart to bow; In vain have I said to him ‘There be many singers greater tha… But his answer cometh, as winds an…

There’s a regret So grinding, so immitigably sad, Remorse thereby feels tolerant, ev… Do you not know it yet? For deeds undone

Heaven’s worry, scurries to earth; twisted planning, what’s to block… At sight of good plan, they turn t… the sight of their planning gives me a pain.

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…