When I was not quite five years o… I first saw the blue picture book, And Fraulein Spitzenburger told Stories that sent me hot and cold; I loathed it, yet I had to look:
The youngest poet down the shelves… In a dim library, just behind the… From which the ancient poet was mu… A song about some Lovers at a Fai… Pulling his long white beard and g…
Truth—loving Persians do not dwel… The trivial skirmish fought near… As for the Greek theatrical tradi… Which represents that summer’s exp… Not as a mere reconnaisance in for…
he child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all’s poetry with him. Rhyme and music flow in plenty
As Jesus and his followers Upon a Sabbath morn Were walking by a wheat field They plucked the ears of corn. They plucked it, they rubbed it,
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…
I’ve watched the Seasons passing… In the fields between La Bassée a… Primroses and the first warm day o… Red poppy floods of June, August, and yellowing Autumn, so
A page, a huntsman and a priest of… Her lovers, met in jealous contrar… Equally claiming the sole parentho… Of him the perfect crown of their… Then, whom to admit, herself she c…
And what of home—how goes it, boys… While we die here in stench and no… ‘The hill stands up and hedges win… Over the crest and drop behind; Here swallows dip and wild things…
She, then, like snow in a dark nig… Fell secretly. And the world wake… With dazzling of the drowsy eye, So that some muttered 'Too much l… And drew the curtains close.
Desire, first, by a natural miracl… United bodies, united hearts, blaz… Transcended bodies, transcended he… Two souls, now unalterably one In whole love always and for ever,
Never be disenchanted of That place you sometimes dream you… Lying at large remove beyond all d… Or those you find there, though bu… In their company seated —
White flabbiness goes brown and le… Dumpling arms are now brass bars, They’ve learnt to suffer and live… And to think below the stars. They’ve steeled a tender, girlish…
Call it a good marriage — For no one ever questioned Her warmth, his masculinity, Their interlocking views; Except one stray graphologist
Have you spent the money I gave y… Ay, father I have. A fourpence on cakes, two pennies… To a beggar I gave. The lake of yellow brimstone boil…
