#English
IN vision I roamed the flashing… So fierce in blazon that the Nigh… As though with an awed sense of su… And as I thought my spirit ranged… In footless traverse through ghast…
Dora’s gone to Ireland Through the sleet and snow; Promptly she has gone there In a ship, although Why she’s gone to Ireland
Queer are the ways of a man I kno… He comes and stands In a careworn craze, And looks at the sands And the seaward haze
It was your way, my dear, To be gone without a word When callers, friends, or kin Had left, and I hastened in To rejoin you, as I inferred.
I—The Tragedy She sits in the tawny vapour That the City lanes have uprol… Behind whose webby fold on fold Like a waning taper
Looking forward to the spring One puts up with anything. On this February day, Though the winds leap down the str… Wintry scourgings seem but play,
The two executioners stalk along o… Bearing two axes with heavy heads… And a long limp two—handled saw to… And so they approach the proud tre… Jackets doffed they swing axes and…
South of the Line, inland from fa… A mouldering soldier lies—your cou… Awry and doubled up are his gray b… And on the breeze his puzzled phan… Nightly to clear Canopus: “I wou…
I sat in the Muses’ Hall at the m… And it seemed to grow still, and t… And the chiselled shapes to combin… Till beside a Carrara column ther… She was nor this nor that of those…
PALE beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day? When the rains skim and skip,
Scene.—A wide stretch of fallow g… frozen to iron hardness. Three lar… and wistfully eyeing the surface.… dull grey. (Triolet)
That mirror Which makes of men a transparency, Who holds that mirror And bids us such a breast-bare spe… Of you and me?
I wandered to a crude coast Like a ghost; Upon the hills I saw fires - Funeral pyres Seemingly - and heard breaking
Let us off and search, and find a… Where yours and mine can be natura… Where no one comes who dissects an… And proclaims that ours is a curio… That its touch of romance can scar…
Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk, With an old horse that stumbles an… Half asleep as they stalk. Only thin smoke without flame