Why should this Negro insolently… Down the red noonday on such noise… Piled in his barrow, tawnier than… Lie heaps of smouldering daisies,… Their copper petals shriveled up w…

Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoeni… Thus she sails through windy skies… Thus in the willow’s arms she lies… Turn to the East or turn to the W…

First Traveller: What’s that lyin… Second Traveller: A crooked stick… First Traveller: What’s it worth,… Second Traveller: Isn’t this a ri… First Traveller: No, a trick.

Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images Of eagle and of antelope: I am by nature none of these. I was, being human, born alone;

The sailorman’s child And the girl of the witch— They can’t be defiled By touching pitch. The sailorman’s son

BARCAROLE ON THE STYX<… Fair youth with the rose at your l… A riddle is hid in your eyes; Discard conversational quips, Give over elaborate disguise.

I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb

The rain’s cold grains are silver-… Sharp as golden sands, A bell is clanging, people sway Hanging by their hands. Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff…

Within my house of patterned horn I sleep in such a bed As men may keep before they’re bor… And after when they’re dead. Sticks and stones may break their…

Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds

Let us quarrel for these reasons: You detest the salt which seasons My speech . . . and all my lights… In the cold poison of your doubt. I love Shelley . . . you love Kea…

Poets make pets of pretty, docile… I love smooth words, like gold-ena… Which circle slowly with a silken… And tender ones, like downy-feathr… Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed d…

If we must cheat ourselves with an… Then let it be a dream of noblenes… Since it is necessary to express Gall from black grapes—to sew an e… With a rusty needle—chase a spurio…

Better to see your cheek grown hol… Better to see your temple worn, Than to forget to follow, follow, After the sound of a silver horn. Better to bind your brow with will…

I was always afraid of Somes’s Po… Not the little pond, by which the… Where laughing boys catch alewives… In brown, bright shallows; but the… There, where the frost makes all t…