Bolt and bar the shutter, For the foul winds blow: Our minds are at their best this n… And I seem to know That everything outside us is

AN old man cocked his ear upon a… He and his friend, their faces to… Had trod the uneven road. Their b… Their Connemara cloth worn out of… They had kept a steady pace as tho…

POUR wine and dance if manhood s… Bring roses if the rose be yet in… The cataract smokes upon the mount… Our Father Rosicross is in his to… Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle…

Though you are in your shining day… Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your pra… Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the mo…

Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear… Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore,

A little Indian temple in the Gol… that the forest. Anashuya, the you… temple. Anashuya. Send peace on all the l… O, may tranquillity walk by his el…

Why should I blame her that she f… With misery, or that she would of… Have taught to ignorant men most v… Or hurled the little streets upon… Had they but courage equal to desi…

I– CRAZY JANE AND THE B… Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call down curses on his head

THIS night has been so strange t… As if the hair stood up on my head… From going-down of the sun I have… That women laughing, or timid or w… In rustle of lace or silken stuff,

A CURSING rogue with a merry f… A bundle of rags upon a crutch, Stumbled upon that windy place Called Cruachan, and it was as mu… As the one sturdy leg could do

Be you still, be you still, trembl… Remember the wisdom out of the old… Him who trembles before the flame… And the winds that blow through th… Let the starry winds and the flame…

SHE might, so noble from head To great shapely knees, The long flowing line, Have walked to the altar Through the holy images

YOU ask what—I have found, and f… Nothing but Cromwell’s house and… The lovers and the dancers are bea… And the tall men and the swordsmen… And there is an old beggar wanderi…

NOW that we’re almost settled in… I’ll name the friends that cannot… Beside a fire of turf in the ancie… And having talked to some late hou… Climb up the narrow winding stair…