Boys and girls, come out to play: The sun is up, the wind’s astray, Early morning’s gold is gone– (They slumber on, they slumber on.… I have never done with you

Up that thin river, going over san… Down that deep river, purple to th… My fingers fire; cool your quiet h… And your voice sad, and mine the a… So, silver-thin, the flute-like ru…

There is a bird that hangs head-do… Between the mango leaves and passi… Below, a spotted serpent twines And blunts its head against the ye… Along the warping ground a turtle…

All essences of sweetness from the… Warm day go up in vapor, when the… Comes down. Ascends the tune of m… Ascends the noon-time smell of gra… Takes sunlight from the world, and…

These were his songs. Now he has… All he has made, that has he also… Seeing my beauty budding, broke th… Finding his likeness here, where h… Finding the flame of his hurt spir…

Put her away some place between tw… Away from the sea and the sun. She has so much to think of–must s… On your bright bosom always, Moth… Put her away, and let some other b…

In that day Everyone will sing, Everyone will play in that day; There will be carolling. You will make poems for your neigh…

What time is it? Midnight and very dark. Are you afraid? No. Are you? I want to live until morning.

Wishes are birds. You have been c… With them, invisible, I sent you… Flown from my heart that long had… Surpassing winds in their sharp ea… You have not seen their dim shades…

I understand what you were running… Slim naked boy, and why from far i… You came between dark hills. I kn… The sea makes in some ears. I und… I understand why you were running…

Over you, over you, over, I hang like a wave, like a lover, Like a scimitar edged with hate; Too heavy with grief to be straigh… And far,

Swing, swing, and swoon, Morning, evening, noon, And with night, sleep. If you must, weep– But here, here with me.

What husks of last year’s winter c… To-morrow’s world–what dead, what… Of ancient parchments, laws, belie… Worn, tattered layers keep the lif… Where slender as a sword, and tend…

How tender-mad the little meadows… The wobbling lambs are tasting mil… The tipsy trees Are leaned like foam on green, win… The pale moth flutters where the p…

Now I am slow and placid, fond of… Like a sleek beast, or a worn one, No slim and languid girl – not gla… With the windy trip I once had, But velvet-footed, musing of my ow…