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

Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

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 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,

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…

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

‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue

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

‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’

Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!

The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.

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

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

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

Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!