Flee into some forgotten night and… Of all dark long my moon-bright co… Beyond the rumour even of Paradis… There, out of all remembrance, mak… Seek we some close hid shadow for…

Most wounds can Time repair; But some are mortal—these: For a broken heart there is no bal… No cure for a heart at ease— At ease, but cold as stone,

Dim-berried is the mistletoe With globes of sheenless grey, The holly mid ten thousand thorns Smoulders its fires away; And in the manger Jesus sleeps

Low on his fours the Lion Treads with the surly Bear; But Men straight upward from the… Walk with their heads in the air; The free sweet winds of heaven,

When Susan’s work was done, she’d… With one fat guttering candle lit, And window opened wide to win The sweet night air to enter in; There, with a thumb to keep her pl…

Isled in the midnight air, Musked with the dark’s faint bloom… Out into glooming and secret haunt… The flame cries, ‘Come!’ Lovely in dye and fan,

Who said, “Peacock Pie”? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, “Crops are ripe”? Rust to the harrow: Who said, “Where sleeps she now?

It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,

Upon a bank, easeless with knobs o… Beneath a canopy of noonday smoke, I saw a measureless Beast, morose… With eyes like one from filthy dre… Who stares upon the daylight in de…

Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on,

What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass,

Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…

Sterile these stones By time in ruin laid. Yet many a creeping thing Its haven has made In these least crannies, where fal…

I think and think: yet still I fa… Why must this lady wear a veil? Why thus elect to mask her face Beneath that dainty web of lace? The tip of a small nose I see,

All but blind In his chambered hole, Gropes for worms The four-clawed mole. All but blind