From brief delights that rise to m… Out of unfathomable dole, I thank whatever gods there be For mine unconquerable soul. In the strong clutch of Circumsta…

From the brake the Nightingale Sings exulting to the Rose; Though he sees her waxing pale In her passionate repose, While she triumphs waxing frail,

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…

Out of the poisonous East, Over a continent of blight, Like a maleficent Influence relea… From the most squalid cellerage of… The Wind—Fiend, the abominable—

Out of the starless night that cov… (O tribulation of the wind that ro… Black as the cloud of some tremend… The susurration of the sighing sea Sounds like the sobbing whisper of…

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

Bring her again, O western wind, Over the western sea! Gentle and good and fair and kind, Bring her again to me! Not that her fancy holds me dear,

Fountains that frisk and sprinkle The moss they overspill; Pools that the breezes crinkle; The wheel beside the mill, With its wet, weedy frill;

Where are the passions they essaye… And where the tears they made to f… Where the wild humours they portra… For laughing worlds to see and kno… Othello’s wrath and Juliet’s woe?

Or ever the knightly years were go… With the old world to the grave, I was the King of Babylon And you were a Christian Slave. I saw, I took, I cast you by,

Fools may pine, and sots may swill… Cynics gibe, and prophets rail, Moralists may scourge and drill, Preachers prose, and fainthearts q… Let them whine, or threat, or wail…

Some starlit garden grey with dew, Some chamber flushed with wine and… What matters where, so I and you Are worthy our desire? Behind, a past that scolds and jee…

Life in her creaking shoes Goes, and more formal grows, A round of calls and cues: Love blows as the wind blows. Blows! . . . in the quiet close

On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago, We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day,