To one, on returning certain years… You wore the same quite correct cl… You took no pleasure at all in my… You had the same old air of condes… Mingled with a curious fear

The baby new to earth and sky Has never until now Unto himself the question put Or asked us if the cow Is higher in the mental scale

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

Blue, blue is the grass about the… And the willows have overfilled th… And within, the mistress, in the m… White, white of face, hesitates, p… Slender, she puts forth a slender…

‘Tis Evanoe’s, A house not made with hands, But out somewhere beyond the world… Her gold is spread, above, around,… Strange ways and walls are fashion…

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…

Your mind and you are our Sargass… London has swept about you this sc… And bright ships left you this or… Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all… Strange spars of knowledge and dim…

“Tout aux tavernes et aux filles.” Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-j… Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?

Ha! sir, I have seen you sniffing… about among my flowers. And what, pray, do you know about horticulture, you capriped? ‘Come, Auster, come Apeliota,

For a moment she rested against me Like a swallow half blown to the w… And they talk of Swinburne’s wome… And the shepherdess meeting with… And the harlots of Baudelaire.

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…

Good God! They say you are risqué… O canzonetti! We who went out into the four A.… Composing our albas, We who shook off our dew with the…

By the North Gate, the wind blows… Lonely from the beginning of time… Trees fall, the grass goes yellow… I climb the towers and towers to watch out the barbarous land:

What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross What thou lov’st well shall not be… What thou lov’st well is thy true…

O My songs, Why do you look so eagerly and so… people’s faces, Will you find your lost dead among…