Above the Crags that fade and glo… Starts the bare knee of Arthur’s… Ridged high against the evening bl… The Old Town rises, street on str… With lamps bejewelled, straight ah…

Life is bitter. All the faces of… Young and old, are gray with trava… Must we only wake to toil, to tire… In the sun, among the leaves, upon… Slumber stills to dreamy death the…

Not to the staring Day, For all the importunate questionin… In his big, violent voice, Shall those mild things of bulk an… The Trees—God’s sentinels

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,

Space and dread and the dark - Over a livid stretch of sky Cloud-monsters crawling, like a fu… Of huge, primeval presences Stooping beneath the weight

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance

There’s never a delicate nurseling… But our huge London hails it, and… To wear it on her breast or at her… Her days to colour and make sweet… Crocus and daffodil and violet,

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,

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?

Gulls in an aery morrice Gleam and vanish and gleam . . . The full sea, sleepily basking, Dreams under skies of dream. Gulls in an aery morrice

Though, if you ask her name, she s… Being plain Elizabeth, e’en let i… And own that, if her aspirates tak… She ever makes a point, in washing… Handling the engine, turning taps…

Forth from the dust and din, The crush, the heat, the many-spot… The odour and sense of life and lu… The wrangle and jangle of unrests, Let us take horse, Dear Heart, ta…

A LATE lark twitters from the qu… And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ende… Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city

Something is dead . . . The grace of sunset solitudes, the… Of the solitary moon, the pomp and… Of round on round of shining soldi… Patrolling space, the bounties of…