As Jane walked out below the hill… She saw an old man standing still, His eyes in tranced sorrow bound On the broad stretch of barren gro… His limbs were knarled like aged t…
So far from praising he blasphemes Who says that God has been or is, Who swears he met with God in dre… Or face to face in woods and strea… Meshed in their boundaries.
Thick and scented daisies spread Where with surface dull like lead Arabian pools of slime invite Manticors down from neighbouring h… To dip heads, to cool fiery blood
You young friskies who today Jump and fight in Father’s hay With bows and arrows and wooden sp… Playing at Royal Welch Fusiliers… Happy though these hours you spend…
Now I begin to know at last, These nights when I sit down to r… The form and measure of that vast God we call Poetry, he who stoops And leaps me through his paper hoo…
…but I was dead, an hour or more. I woke when I’d already passed th… That Cerberus guards, and half—wa… To Lethe, as an old Greek signpos… Above me, on my stretcher swinging…
‘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…
Bears gash the forest trees To mark the bounds Of their own hunting grounds; They follow the wild bees Point by point home
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…
As I walked out one harvest night About the stroke of One, The Moon attained to her full hei… Stood beaming like the Sun. She exorcised the ghostly wheat
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
Nine of the clock, oh! Wake my lazy head! Your shoes of red morocco, Your silk bed—gown: Rouse, rouse, speck—eyed Mary
THE bugler sent a call of high ro… “Lights out! Lights out!” to the… On the thin brazen notes he threw… “God, if it’s this for me next tim… O spare the phantom bugle as I li…
Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry,
The hunter to the husbandman Pays tribute since our love began, And to love—loyalty dedicates The phantom kills he meditates. Let me embrace, embracing you,
