A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran and hid among the staves Of an old wharf. A watery light

The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread o… In the quiet sunshine. And still is the old Roman wall,

Beneath this sod lie the remains Of one who died of growing pains.

This little bowl is like a mossy p… In a Spring wood, where dogtooth… Nodding in chequered sunshine of t… A quiet place, still, with the sou… Where, though unseen, is heard the…

I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span… They weave like a shuttle between… And slide discreetly through hidde… They are canopied like a Persian…

“So . . .” they said, With their wine-glasses delicately… Mocking at the thing they cannot u… “So . . .” they said again, Amused and insolent.

From out the dragging vastness of… Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, s… He toils toward the rounding beach… One moment, white and dripping, si… Cut like a cameo in lazuli,

Send sunflowers! With my turkey-bone whistle I am calling the birds To sing upon the sunflowers. For when the clouds hear them sing…

What instinct forces man to journe… Urged by a longing blind but domin… Nothing he sees can hold him, noth… His never failing eagerness. The… Setting in splendour every night h…

WHEN night drifts along the stre… And sifts down between the uneven… My mind begins to peek and peer. It plays at ball in old, blue Chi… And shakes wrought dice-cups in P…

Swirl of crowded streets. Shock a… brick facade of an old church, aga… lurch and withdraw. Flare of sunsh… in the windows of chemists’ shops,… darting colours far into the crowd…

A music-stand of crimson lacquer,… In some fast clipper-ship from Ch… With bossed and carven flowers and… The slender shaft all twined about… With vine leaves and young twisted…

Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up

April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds. Across a deep-sunken stream

Thou father of the children of my… By thee engendered in my willing h… How can I thank thee for this gif… Poured out so lavishly, and not in… What thou created never more can d…