In my body lives a flame, Flame that burns me all the day; When a fierce sun does the same, I am charred away. Who could keep a smiling wit,

Where is the landlord of old Hawk… And what of Master Straddler this… He’s along in the tap—room with br… And ten bold companions all drinki… Where is the daughter of old Hawk…

O the clear moment, when from the… A word flies, current immediately Among friends; or when a loving gi… As the identical wish nearest the… Or when a stone, volleyed in sudde…

Back from the line one night in J… I gave a dinner at Bethune— Seven courses, the most gorgeous m… Money could buy or batman steal. Five hungry lads welcomed the fish

His eyes are quickened so with gri… He can watch a grass or leaf Every instant grow; he can Clearly through a flint wall see, Or watch the startled spirit flee

Mother: Alice, dear, what ails yo… Dazed and white and shaken? Has the chill night numbed you? Is it fright you have taken? Alice: Mother I am very well,

The great sun sinks behind the tow… Through a red mist of Volnay wine… But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the tow… You’ll only skip the page, you’ll…

It is a poet’s privilege and fate To fall enamoured of the one Muse Who variously haunts this island e… She was your mother, Darien, And presaged by the darting halcyo…

Lost manor where I walk continual… A ghost, while yet in woman’s fles… Up your broad stairs mounting with… And gliding steadfast down your co… I come by nightly custom to this r…

Gulp down your wine, old friends o… Roar through the darkness, stamp a… And lay ghost hands on everything, But leave the noonday’s warm sunsh… To living lads for mirth and wine.

‘Give us Rain, Rain,’ said the be… ‘Not so much Sun, Not so much Sun.’ But the Sun smiles bravely and en… And no rain falls and no waters ru…

On the eighth day God died; his b… That had been shut so long flew op… So Adam’s too in a dismay like de… But the world still rolled on arou… Instinct with all those lesser pow…

Nine of the clock, oh! Wake my lazy head! Your shoes of red morocco, Your silk bed—gown: Rouse, rouse, speck—eyed Mary