‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue

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

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

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

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

Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!

Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.

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

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

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

The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night

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

Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.

Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!