I TURN round Like a dumb beast in a show. Neither know what I am Nor where I go, My language beaten

O HURRY where by water among the tree… The delicate-stepping stag and his lady… When they have but looked upon their ima… Would none had ever loved but you and I… Or have you heard that sliding silver-sh…

Fasten your hair with a golden pin, And bind up every wandering tress; I bade my heart build these poor rhymes: It worked at them, day out, day in, Building a sorrowful loveliness

“Would it were anything but merely voice… The No King cried who after that was K… Because he had not heard of anything That balanced with a word is more than n… Yet Old Romance being kind, let him pre…

A SPECKLED cat and a tame hare Eat at my hearthstone And sleep there; And both look up to me alone For learning and defence

I– CRAZY JANE AND THE BISHOP 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

WHAT need you, being come to sense, But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer, until You have dried the marrow from the bone?

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

STRETCH towards the moonless midnight… As though that hand could reach to where… And they but famous old upholsteries Delightful to the touch; tighten that ha… As though to draw them closer yet.

Who will go drive with Fergus now, And pierce the deep wood’s woven shade, And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet brow, And lift your tender eyelids, maid,

It is now more than ten years since I met, for the last time, Michael Robartes, and for the first time and the last time his friends and fellow students; and witnessed his and their tra...

Swayed upon the gaudy stern The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crown upon the shore. I And though I would have hushed the cr…

I care not what the sailors say: All those dreadful thunder-stones, All that storm that blots the day Can but show that Heaven yawns; Great Europa played the fool