Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light?

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

For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,

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

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

The morning is new and the skies a… The day cometh in with the sun and… Hasten, belov’ed! For see, while you were yet sleepi… The cool and virgin feet of dawn w…

Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will… Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the fi… So sodden and dead,

You nor I nor nobody knows Where our daily-taken breath Vanisheth and vanisheth: Where our lost breath’s flying goe… You nor I nor nobody knows.

Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.

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…

A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.

I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…

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

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

Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.