Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I

I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.

So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.

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…

Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.

No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!

JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?

Ere the horne’d owl hoot Once and twice and thrice there sh… Go among the blind brown worms News of thy great burial; When the pomp is passed away,

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

The morning is new and the skies a… The day cometh in with the sun and… Hasten, belov’ed! For see, while you were yet sleepi… The cool and virgin feet of dawn w…

The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!

As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -

Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.

Have yet forgot, sweet birds, How near the heaven’s lie? Drooping, sick-pinion’d, oh Have yet forgot the sky? The air that once I knew

Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.