In the middle of countries, far fr… Are the little places one passes b… And never stops at; where the skie… Uninterrupted, and the level plain… Stretch green and yellow and green…

Sitting on the top of the 'bus, I bite my pipe and look at the sky… Over my shoulder the smoke streams… And my life with it. “Conservation of energy,” you say.

All fly—yet who is misanthrope?— The actual men and things that pas… Jostling, to wither as the grass So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope, Or poetry’s kaleidoscope,

A petal drifted loose From a great magnolia bloom, Your face hung in the gloom, Floating, white and close. We seemed alone: but another

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,

Old ghosts that death forgot to fe… Across the Lethe of the years - These are my friends, and at their… I weep and with their mirth am mer… On a high tower, whose battlements

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…

Spring is past and over these many… Spring and summer. The leaves of… Yellowing afid all but dead on the… Nor is there any hope in me. I wa… Slowly homeward. Night is as empt…

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,

My close-walled soul has never kno… That innermost darkness, dazzling… Like the blind point, whence the v… In the core of the gazer’s chrysol… The mystic darkness that laps God…

Instants in the quiet, small sharp… Pierce my spirit with a thrust who… Baffles even the grasp of time. Oh that I might reflect them As swiftly, as keenly as they shin…

Once more the windless days are he… Quiet of autumn, when the year Halts and looks backward and draws… Before it plunges into death. Silver of mist and gossamers,