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,

In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.

Peter stands by the gate, And Michael by the throne. ‘Peter, I would pass the gate And come before the throne.’ ‘Whose spirit prayed never at the…

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

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?

Madonna, Madonnina Sat by the grey road-side, Saint Joseph her beside, And Our Lord at her breast; Oh they were fain to rest,

(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.

Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and

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

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

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

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

In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried

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,

Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…