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

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

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

Avis, the fair, at dawn Rose lightly from her bed, Herself arrayed, Avis, the fait, the maid, In vestiment of lawn;

Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.

With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.

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

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

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…

But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!

Too far afield thy search. Nay, t… At thine own elbow potent Memory… Thy double, and eternity is cupped In the pale hollow of those ghostl…

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

Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.

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…

Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.