What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss? Three lives hath one life—

I did not pluck at all, And I am sorry now: The garden is not barred But the boughs are heavy with snow… The flake-blossoms thickly fall

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks, Too loth to show her face– Why should she shun the world? It is a holy place. Concealed to itself

She bade us listen to the singing… In tones far sweeter than its own: For fear that she should cease and… We built the bird a feigned throne… Shrined in her gracious glory-givi…

Nudes—stark and glistening, Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning f… And raging limbs Whirl over the floor one fire. For a shirt verminously busy

The moon is in an ecstasy, It wanes not nor can grow ; The heavens are in a mist of love, And deepest knowledge know: What things in nature seem to move

Fierce wrath of Solomon, Where sleepest thou? 0 see, The fabric which thou won Earth and ocean to give thee– 0 look at the red skies.

Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we k… What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we… This poison—blasted track opens on…

‘ Here are houses,’ he moaned, ‘I could reach, but my brain swims… Then they thundered and flashed, And shook the earth to its rims. ‘They are gunpits,’ he gasped,

Call-call—and bruise the air: Shatter dumb space! Yea! We will ding this passion ev… Leaving no place For the superb and grave

To sweeten a swift minute so With such rare fragrance of sweet… And make the after hours go In a blank yearning each on each ; To drain the springs till they be…

O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily ; Your dim lips as your lids unclose Murmur your own sad threnody. 0 as the soft and frail lights bre…

I mingle with your bones: You steal in subtle noose This lighted dust .Jehovah loans And now I lose. What will the Lender say

Lamp-lit faces, to you What is your starry dew? Gold flowers of the night blue! Deep in wet pavement’s slime Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,

My days are but the tombs of burie… Which tombs are hidden in the pile… But from the mounds there spring u… Whose beauty well repays their cos… Time, like a sexton, pileth mould…