What ogive gates from gold of Oph… What walls of Pariah, whiter than… What towers of crystal, for the ey… Hast builded on far Islands of Re… Thy cloudy columns, vast, Corinth…

To it the forest tells The mystery that haunts its heart… Its form in cogitation deep, that… The shadow of each myth that dwell… In nature be it Nymph or Fay or…

A heritage of hopes and fears And dreams and memory, And vices of ten thousand years God gives to thee. A house of clay, the home of Fate…

Summer met Sleep at sunset, Dreaming within the south, Drugged with his soul’s deep slumb… Red with her heart’s hot drouth, These are the drowsy kisses

Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks and fumbles and knocks agai… His long-nailed fingers slip and s… Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks all night but knocks in vai…

What wood-god, on this water’s mos… Lost in reflections of earth’s lov… Did I, just now, unconsciously di… I, who haphazard, wandering at a g… Came on this spot, wherein, with g…

An evil, stealthy water, dark as h… Sunk from the light of day, ‘Thwart which is hung a ruined wat… Creeps on its stagnant way. Moss and the spawny duckweed, dim…

Far in the purple valleys of illus… I see her waiting, like the soul o… With deep eyes, lovelier than ceru… Shadow and fire, yet merciless as… With red lips, sweeter than Arabi…

There it lies broken, as a shard, What breathed sweet music yesterda… The source, all mute, has passed a… With its masked meanings still unm… But melody will never cease!

Blood-Coloured oaks, that stand a… Gaunt slopes, on which the bleak l… And broom-sedge strips of smoky-pi… In which, beneath the ragged sky,… From West to East, from wood to w…

In girandoles of gladioles The day had kindled flame; And Heaven a door of gold and pea… Unclosed when Morning, like a gir… A red rose twisted in a curl,

The teasel and the horsemint sprea… The hillside as with sunset, sown With blossoms, o’er the Standing-… That ripples in its rocky bed: There are no treasuries that hold

How often hope’s fair flower bloom… The soul was fertilized with black…

Once when the park Was very dark I slipped out and went walking; And heard the trees To the summer breeze,

The cuckoo-sorrel paints with pink The green page of the meadow-land Around a pool where thrushes drink As from a hollowed hand. A hill, long-haired with leathered…