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…

Under this loop of honeysuckle, A creeping, coloured caterpillar, I gnaw the fresh green hawthorn sp… I nibble it leaf by leaf away. Down beneath grow dandelions,

Sing baloo loo for Jenny And where is she gone? Away to spy her mother’s land, Riding all alone. To the rich towns of Scotland,

‘Gabble—gabble . . . brethren . .… My window glimpses larch and heath… I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whethe… The text is praise or exhortation,

Mother: What’s in that cupboard,… Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear… Mother: The cupboard of red mahog… With handles shining clear. Mary: That cupboard, dearest moth…

Here they lie who once learned her… All that is taught of hurt or fear… Dead, but by free will they died: They were true men, they had pride…

A purple whale Proudly sweeps his tail Towards Nineveh; Glassy green Surges between

The silent shepherdess, She of my vows, Here with me exchanging love Under dim boughs. Shines on our mysteries

“Is that the Three—and—Twentieth,… Marching below, and we still gulpi… From the sad magic of his fragrant… The red—faced old centurion starte… Cursed, battered on the table. “N…

On her shut lids the lightning fli… Thunder explodes above her bed, An inch from her lax arm the rain… Discrete she lies, Not dead but entranced, dreamlessl…

Here in turn succeed and rule Carter, smith, and village fool, Then again the place is known As tavern, shop, and Sunday—schoo… Now somehow it’s come to me