Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.

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

Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.

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

Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…

In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;

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

More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,

‘There’s be no roof to shelter you… You’ll have no where to lay your h… And who will get your food for you… Star-dust pays for no man’s bread. So, Jacky, come give me your fidd…

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

I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me

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

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

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

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