Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…

Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?

Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…

Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and

Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.

You nor I nor nobody knows Where our daily-taken breath Vanisheth and vanisheth: Where our lost breath’s flying goe… You nor I nor nobody knows.

‘Let me be young,’ the Latmian sh… ‘And let me have on night-time hil… Whom she of Cynthus saw, Heaven’s… And gave his youth and dreams her… What news comrade upon the mountai…

For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,

Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still

Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.

In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried

But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!

A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.

The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.

Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but