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…

Some may have blamed us that we ce… Of things we spoke of in our verse… Saying: a lovely voice is such as… Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad… Wherein the world’s whole joy is b…

The phoenix are at play on their t… The phoenix are gone, the river H… Flowers and grass Cover over the dark path where lay the dynastic house of th…

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…

FROM THE PROVENCAL O… Lady, since you care nothing for m… And since you have shut me away fr… Causelessly, I know not wnere to go seeking,

There is no land like England Where banks rise day by day, There are no banks like English b… To make the people pay. There is no such land of castles

Let some new lying ass, Who knows not what is or was, Talk economics, Pay for his witless noise, Get the kid nice new toys,

I make a pact with you, Walt Whit… I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig—headed father; I am old enough now to make friend…

.Light, light of my eyes, at an ex… And intoxicated, and no servant was leading me, And a minute crowd of small boys c… I do not know what boys,

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patr… Give me in due time, I beseech yo… With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragrant cavendish

The gods are dead? Perhaps they a… Living at least in Lempriere unde… The wise, the fair, the awful, the… Are one and all. I like to think,… In some still land of lilacs and t…

With minds still hovering above th… Certain poets here and in France Still sigh over established and na… Long since fully discussed by Ovi… They howl. They complain in delic…

“Thank you, whatever comes” And t… And, as the ray of sun on hanging… Fades when the wind hath lifted th… Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatev… One hour was sunlit and the most h…

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…

The sands are alive with sunshine, The bathers lounge and throng, And out in the bay a bugle Is lilting a gallant song. The clouds go racing eastward,