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,

With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.

Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,

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

A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,

Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?

In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;

If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…

Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look In the pages of my book; And as these thy hand doth turn, Know here is my funeral urn.

Peter stands by the gate, And Michael by the throne. ‘Peter, I would pass the gate And come before the throne.’ ‘Whose spirit prayed never at the…

If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!

Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.

No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!

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

Fate Defied As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad