Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.

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

These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.

To Walter Savage Landor Ah, Walter, where you lived I rue These days come all too late for m… What matter if her eyes were blue Whose rival is Persephone?

A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.

I make my shroud, but no one knows… So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows… In door-way where the lilac blows,

Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910

A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,

The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!

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

Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,

When I was girl by Nilus stream I watched the deserts stars arise; My lover, he who dreamed the Sphi… Learned all his dreaming from eyes… I bore in Greece a burning name,

THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?

Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…

Sea-foam And coral! Oh, I’ll Climb the great pasture rocks And dream me mermaid in the sun’s Gold flood.