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

He has picked grapes in the sun.… Like a fairy tale, Like a tale of dreams. ‘He in his slender youth, with vin… Under a blazing sky’—

When I am making poetry I’m good And happy then. I live in a deep world of angelhoo… Afar from men. And all the great and bright and f…

They are so glad of a young compan… They hail and bless me, these boys… And I whose pathway was dark and… Have no more need of the sun to sh… We’ll walk in darkness, obscure, d…

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…

O man, O woman, grievest so? Art shut away from all delight, And must thou leave this garden pl… O Eve, O Adam, question not. The God is kind who would be crue…

I have a sister whom God gave to… He formed her out of trouble and t… Like Aphrodite, she came to me fu… Oh, I am blest forever with a sis…

My darling lies down in her soft w… And she laughs at me. Her laughter has flushed her pale… Her eyes dance with glee. My darling lies close in her warm…

He looks in my heart and the image… Is himself, himself, than himself… And he thinks of my heart as a mir… To reflect the image I hold most… But my heart is much more like a s…

One comes to love the little saint… As years go by. One learns to love the little sain… ‘O hear me sigh, St. Anthony,

Maisie’s been holding down her hea… Her little red head. And her poin… Rests on her neck that slips so so… The square-cut low-necked darling… In such a way, since it’s high-wai…

Great crane o’ertopping the delica… Why do you seem so fair, Swaying and raising your load with… High in the misty air? You are a wonder of pearl and grey

When I am so worn out I cannot sl… And yet I know I have to work nex… Or lose my job, I sometimes have… To one long dead, who listens when… I ask Saint Rose of Lima for the…

Those must be masts of ships the g… On through the little gap in the p… So far away that seeing almost fai… Those must be masts, the lovely ma… Stripped bare of sails.

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?’