Something is dead . . . The grace of sunset solitudes, the… Of the solitary moon, the pomp and… Of round on round of shining soldi… Patrolling space, the bounties of…

SINCE those we love and those we… With all things mean and all thing… Pass in a desperate disarray Over the hills and far away: It must be, Dear, that, late or s…

Blue-eyed and bright of face but w… Into the sere of virginal decay, I view her as she enters, day by d… As a sweet sunset almost overpast. Kindly and calm, patrician to the…

In the waste hour Between to-day and yesterday We watched, while on my arm - Living flesh of her flesh, bone of… Dabbled in sweat the sacred head

Blithe dreams arise to greet us, And life feels clean and new, For the old love comes to meet us In the dawning and the dew. O’erblown with sunny shadows,

If I were king, my pipe should be… The skies of time and chance are s… We would inform them all with blan… Delight alone would need to shed a… For dream and deed should war no m…

There’s never a delicate nurseling… But our huge London hails it, and… To wear it on her breast or at her… Her days to colour and make sweet… Crocus and daffodil and violet,

In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no regret For all the tumult that had been. The distances were still and green… And streaked with shadows cool and…

I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,

Spring winds that blow As over leagues of myrtle-blooms a… Bevies of spring clouds trooping s… Like matrons heavy bosomed and agl… With the mild and placid pride of…

St. Margaret’s bells, Quiring their innocent, old-world… Sing in the storied air, All rosy-and-golden, as with memor… Of woods at evensong, and sands an…

Exceeding tall, but built so well… Half-disappears in flow of chest a… Moustache and whisker trooper-like… Frank-faced, frank-eyed, frank-hea… And always punctual-morning, noon,…

From the winter’s grey despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever. Inevitable, silent, unseen,

The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain.