My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best.

The ten hours’ light is abating, And a late bird flies across, Where the pines, like waltzers wai… Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon…

For long the cruel wish I knew That your free heart should ache f… While mine should bear no ache for… For, long—the cruel wish!—I knew How men can feel, and craved to vi…

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.

On Monday night I closed my door, And thought you were not as hereto… And little cared if we met no more… I seemed on Tuesday night to trac… Something beyond mere commonplace

‘Whenever I plunge my arm, like t… In a basin of water, I never miss The sweet sharp sense of a fugitiv… Fetched back from its thickening s… Hence the only prime

I rose up as my custom is On the eve of All-Souls’ day, And left my grave for an hour or s… To call on those I used to know Before I passed away.

(E. L. G.) BENEATH a knap where flown Nestlings play, Within walls of weathered stone, Far away

Well, World, you have kept faith… Kept faith with me; Upon the whole you have proved to… Much as you said you were. Since as a child I used to lie

Here by the moorway you returned, And saw the borough lights ahead That lit your face - all undiscern… To be in a week the face of the de… And you told of the charm of that…

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

When I set out for Lyonnesse, A hundred miles away, The rime was on the spray, And starlight lit my lonesomeness When I set out for Lyonnesse

Between us now and here— Two thrown together Who are not wont to wear Life’s flushest feather— Who see the scenes slide past,