Lady in the blue kimono, you that… One may see you gazing, gazing gaz… Idly looking out your window from… Are you convalescent, lady? Are y… Ever gazing, as you hang there on…

I used to think that this environ– Ment talk was all a lot of guff; Place mattered not with Keats and… Stuff. If I have thoughts that need disc…

For something like eleven summers I’ve written things that aimed to… Our careless mealy-mouthéd mummers To be more sedulous of speech. So sloppy of articulation

Horace: Book II, Elegy 2 “Liber eram et vacuo meditabar viv… I was free. I thought that I had… Love’s Antarctic Zone. “A truce to sentiment,” I said. “…

“Oh bard,” I said, “your verse is… The shackles that encumber me, The fetters that are my obsession, Are never gyves to your expression… ”The fear of falsities in rhyme,

(Why don’t you ever write any chil… —A MOTHER.) My right-hand neighbour hath a chi… A pretty child of five or six, Not more than other children wild,

Horace: Book I, Ode 19 “Mater sæva Cupidinum” Venus, the cruel mother of The Cupids (symbolising Love), Bids me to muse upon and sigh

The Passionate Householder to his… Come, live with us and be our cook… And we will all the whimsies brook That German, Irish, Swede, and S… And all the dear domestics have.

“Militis in galea nidum fecere col… PETRONIUS WITH IN the soldier’s helmet se… The nesting dove; Venus and Mars, it seems to me,

The terrible things that the Gove… Of Kansas says alarm me; And yet somehow we won the war In spite of the Regular Army. The things they say of the old N.…

[“There are so many things I want… Said Abelard to Heloïse: “Your tresses blowing in the breez… Enchant my soul; your cheek allure… I never knew such lips as yours.”

When you came you were like red wi… And the taste of you burnt my mout… Now you are like morning bread— Smooth and pleasant, I hardly taste you at all, for I…

Horace: Book III, Ode 3 “Carminis interea nostri redæmus… Let us return, then, for a time, To our accustomed round of rhyme; And let my songs’ familiar art

Swift was sweet on Stella; Poe had his Lenore; Burns’ fancy turned to Nancy And a dozen more. Poe was quite a trifler;

When first I doffed my olive drab… I thought, delightfully though mut… “Henceforth I shall have pleasure… Solutely.” Dull with the drudgery of war,