On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago, We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day,

the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ende… Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city

The beach was crowded. Pausing no… He groped and fiddled doggedly alo… His worn face glaring on the thoug… The stony peevishness of sightless… He seemed scarce older than his cl…

O, gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it! For with the dream foregone, foreg…

Life is bitter. All the faces o… Young and old, are gray with trava… Must we only wake to toil, to tire… In the sun, among the leaves, upon… Slumber stills to dreamy death the…

Life is bitter. All the faces of… Young and old, are gray with trava… Must we only wake to toil, to tire… In the sun, among the leaves, upon… Slumber stills to dreamy death the…

Hist? . . . Through the corridor’s echoes, Louder and nearer Comes a great shuffling of feet. Quick, every one of you,

A LATE lark twitters from the qu… And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ende… Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city

St. Margaret’s bells, Quiring their innocent, old-world… Sing in the storied air, All rosy-and-golden, as with memor… Of woods at evensong, and sands an…

‘Liza’s old man’s perhaps a little… ‘Liza’s old woman’s prone to booze… But ‘Liza deems herself a perfect… And proves it in her feathers and… For ’Liza has a bloke her heart t…

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

‘As like the Woman as you can’ - (Thus the New Adam was beguiled)… ‘So shall you touch the Perfect M… (God in the Garden heard and smil… ‘Your father perished with his day…

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it to her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain.