On stark and tortured wire Where refuse of war lies Tangled in mire— When God is flinging Rain down the skies—

Take thou this box, O Heart’s Desire; In it lies thy ring And more, my heart, bleeding ; Take out thy ring,

Weak and faltering, drifting by, I pray Thee, Lord, take Thou the… No captain of my soul am I, Weak and faltering, drifting by! I do not ask Thee, Whither? Why?

Think not of me as facing death, Tattered, labouring for breath ; Rather think of one who strays Dreaming dreams by perfumed ways. Soon I may die, ah! true, ’tis tr…

O spirit of my Fate keen-eyed, fi… Thou lead’st me not to pleasant pl… Rich in gold of setting suns, wher… Slim sylphs in silken draperies, w… With luring elfish eyes as they fl…

It lay on the hill, A sack on its face, Collarless, Stiff and still, Its two feet bare

Let me not think of blood to-night… So doing It will be harder still to fight: Peace’s wooing Sucks blood making me white

WALKING among men like a phanto… With vacant eyes and listless air, Unmarked, befriended, jeered at, l… Only smiling in reply And drawing into self again

We met a strange old man to-day (As we strolled in the ruined plac… And he smiled to us as we came his… With gentle, wistful grace. ‘ Ah! Messieurs, it is very sad’

If I should die—chatter only this… ‘A bullet flew by that did not mis… I did not give life up because of… That bullet came thro’, and that w… Don’t put up a cross where my dung…

I HAVE leaned on God And have been comforted by Him: My fears have been allayed ; My terror of Death has been forgo… My frightened heart

A dead man dead for weeks Is sickening food for lover’s eye That seeks and ever seeks A fair one’s beauty ardently! Did that thing live of late?

OUT, out into the wind-swept clea… Whose purple canopy, the sky, is b… With the soft splendour of the ful… And a thousand stars that mystical… Strange melodies upborne on the co…

JUNE! the joyous, sun-filled mon… When roses, emblems of a heaven, c… Strange melodies in garden and in… With blithesome birds that sing in… Of English lanes; and thousand ot…

The moon—frozen eye— Stares down stupidly, And the wind licks A few bare sticks, Once trees: