The poet pursues his beautiful the… The preacher his golden beatitude; And I run after a vanishing dream… The glittering, will-o’-the-wispis… Of the properly scholarly attitude…

Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…

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

I make my shroud, but no one knows… So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows… In door-way where the lilac blows,

The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!

With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.

JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?

Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’€… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!

Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and

So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.

I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.

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

What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?