He: That isn’t you. She: It’s me, in my blue skirt And scarlet coat and little golden… He: Not good enough. She: Well, burn it if you choose

I have to make a soul for one Who lost his soul in childhood’s h… And I’m not sure’€”not really sur… If I have power. I don’t know whether souls are mad…

I do hate the folk I love– They hurt so. Their least word and act may be Source of woe. ‘Won’t you come to tea with me?’

Today when you went up the hill And all that I could see Was just a speck of black and whit… Very far from me, It seemed more strange than words…

When I was a child, I felt the fairies’ power. Of a sudden my dry life Would burst into flower. The skies were my path,

They used to say Our mother brought us up like hot-… From day to day Such wondrous cares were ours Her love inspired.

I’d like to spend long hours at ho… With a small child to bother me. I’d take her out to see the shops And fuss about my husband’s tea. Instead of this I spend my days

Old memories waken old desires Infallibly. While we’re alive With eye or ear or sense at all, Sometimes, must love revive. But we’ll not think, when some str…

Each day I sit in an ill-lighted… To teach a boy; For one hour by the clock great wo… Are our employ. We read St Agnes’ Eve and that m…

Sometimes I am too tired To think of you. Today was such a day, But then I knew Today, for certain, you’d be weary…

The sun’s my fire. Golden, from a magnificence of blu… Should be its hue. But woolly clouds, Like boarding-house old ladies, co…

When I go up to work the young bl… Has not awaked from dreams: It fades to meet the blue sky mist… It gleams. I say,

To look across at Moira gives me… She has a red tape measure. Her dress is black and all the wor… And I am weary. But that’s like blood—like a thin…

Up in my room on my unmade bed I sat and read. There was work waiting for me belo… I didn’t go. For in my little green room the so…

Pat wasn’t Pat last night at all. He was the rain, The Spring, Young Dionysus, white and warm, Lilac and everything.