The Coming Of The Amazons Dark in the noonday, dark as solem… A circle of dark towers above the… Troy sat bereaved; her desolation… To have drawn slowly down in sultr…

Where is all the beauty that hath… Where the bloom? Dust on boundless wind? Grass dro… Shall Earth boast at last of all… All that suffered, all that triump…

It is early morning within this ro… Dark and damp; without and within,… Waiting for day: not a sound but a… Yellow jasmine, delicate on stiff… Stands in a Tuscan pot to delight…

Just as I came Into the empty, westward—facing ro… A sudden gust blew wide The tall window; at once A shock of sudden light, vibrating…

Drinking wide, sunny wind, Hand within hand, We look from hill to hill Of our own land. Hand within hand, we remember

O when will life taste clean again… Is fouled: the world sees, hears;… Vile fume that would corrupt etern… Were they corruptible. Harsh trum… Victory over the defenceless; ther…

Soars still thy spirit, Child of… Dost hear the camps of Europe hum… On eagle wings dost hover nigher At the far rolling of the drum? To see the harvest thou hast sown

Coloured like Atlantic wave To whose curve the bright air gave Splendour, and the unfathomed blue Mystery of nameless hue; If to others you but shine

There are five men in the moonligh… That by their shadows stand; Three hobble humped on crutches, And two lack each a hand. Frogs somewhere near the roadside

Heroes, whose days are told, Above whose bodies brave Presses the heavy, cold, And quenching wave! Ye sleep: but your bright fame,

All is wild with change, Large the yellow leaves Hang, so frail and few. Now they go, they too Flutter, lifted, lying,

The bare branches rose against the… Under them, freshly fallen, snow s… Up the hill—slope, over the brow i… Spreading an immaterial beauty to… In the elbow of black boughs it cl…

In the shadow of a broken house, Down a deserted street, Propt walls, cold hearths, and pha… And the silence of dead feet— Locked wildly in one another’s arm…

Hyde Park August from a vault of hollow bras… Steep upon the sullen city glares. Yellower burns the sick and parchi… Shivering in the breath of furnace…

So sad and so lonely, Dear? What dream by the fire do you drea… So deep, that you could not hear My step as I entered? Dim Is the room and the ceiling above…