Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?

Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look In the pages of my book; And as these thy hand doth turn, Know here is my funeral urn.

Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…

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

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

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

Musicians O Musicians: Heartseas… Heartsease: an you will have me li… Light wind in the small green leav… Play, oh play, my sad heart ease; Birds, shake from your wilding thr…

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…

White doves of Cytherea, by your… Across the blue Heaven’s bluest h… And by your certain homing to Lov… Still to be true and ever true -…

What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?

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

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

With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.

All day, all day I brush My golden strands of hair; All day I wait and wait.. Ah, who is there? Who calls? Who calls? The gold

Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,