Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still

Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?

If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…

Scarlet the poppies Blue the corn-flowers, Golden the wheat. Gold for the Eternal: Blue for Our Lady:

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

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

The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!

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

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

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

Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than

O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curts… In rose-pale, fading blue of twili… See, the new moon’s thin crescent… Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring…

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

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

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