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?

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

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

Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and

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

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

(Girl’s Song) In Babylon, in Nineveh, And long ago, and far away, The lilies and the lotus blew That are my sweet of youth to-day.

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

Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.

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

The immemorial grief of all years Burdes my heart sorely, and the ye… Of slow eternal crying stain my ch… Forever and forever my soul speaks Saying: I am thy self: Look on me…

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

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

As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.

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