Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune
Let them pierce, keenly, subtly sh
The slow blue rumour of the hill;
Let the grass cry with an anguish
And the great sky be mute.

I had been sitting alone with book
Till doubt was a black disease,
When I heard the cheerful shout o
In the bare, prophetic trees.
Bare trees, prophetic of new birth

Dear absurd child—too dear to my c
God made your soul for pleasure, n
It cleaves no way, but angled broa
Impinges with a slabby-bellied sou
Full upon life, and on the rind of

Noon with a depth of shadow beneat
Shakes in the heat, quivers to the
Half shaded, half sunlit, a great
Glistens purple and golden: the fl
Cool in their panniers of snow: si

Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze
All imperturbable do not
Even make pretences to regard
The justing absence of her stays,
Where many a Tyrian gallipot

Still life, still life ... the hig
Hard and sharp on the bottles: the
Stands firmly solid in the glasses
Smooth yellow ice, through which t
The lamp’s bright pencil of down-s

The stars are golden instants in t
Flawless expanse of night: the moo
The river sleeps, entranced, a smo
Seeming so motionless that I forg
The hollow booming bridges, where

Darkness had stretched its colour,
Deep blue across the pane:
No cloud to make night duller,
No moon with its tarnish stain;
But only here and there a star,

Noonday upon the Alpine meadows
Pours its avalanche of Light
And blazing flowers: the very shad
Translucent are and bright.
It seems a glory that nought surpa

We judge by appearance merely:
If I can’t think strangely, I can
So I grew the hair so long on my
That my mother wouldn’t know me,
Till a woman in a night-club said,