Why go to Saint-Juliot? What’s J… I’ve been but made fancy By some necromancy That much of my life claims the sp… Yes. I have had dreams of that pl…

As newer comers crowd the fore,    We drop behind. —We who have laboured long and sor…    Times out of mind, And keen are yet, must not regret

Why should this flower delay so lo…    To show its tremulous plumes? Now is the time of plaintive robin…    When flowers are in their tombs… Through the slow summer, when the…

YOUR troubles shrink not, though… Here, far away, than when I tarri… I even smile old smiles—with listl… Yet smiles they are, not ghastly m… A thought too strange to house wit…

These numbered cliffs and gnarls o… Outskeleton Time’s central city,… Whereof each arch, entablature, an… Lies bare in all its gaunt anatomy… And cracking frieze and rotten met…

WHEN we as strangers sought Their catering care, Veiled smiles bespoke their though… Of what we were. They warmed as they opined

SNOW-BOUND in woodland, a mour… Dropt now and then from the bill o… Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus… Wearily waiting:— “I planned her a nest in a leafles…

There was a time in former years– While my roof—tree was his— When I should have been distresse… At such a night as this! I should have murmured anxiously,

The chimes called midnight, just a… And the daytime talk on the Roman… Was checked by silence, save for t… The bubbling waters played near th… And a warm air came up from underg…

Here is the ancient floor, Footworn and hollowed and thin, Here was the former door Where the dead feet walked in. She sat here in her chair,

Here’s one in whom Nature feared—… Eclipse while he lived, and deceas…

I was not he-the man Who used to pilgrim to your gate, At whose smart step you grew elate… And rosed, as maidens can, For a brief span.

Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk With an old horse that stumbles an… Half asleep as they stalk. II

How great my grief, my joys how fe… Since first it was my fate to know… —Have the slow years not brought t… How great my grief, my joys how fe… Nor memory shaped old times anew,

I have lived with Shades so long, So long have talked to them, I sped to street and throng, That sometimes they In their dim style