Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebelliou… I never see the towering white clo… Before a sturdy wind, save through… Barred window of my jail. I live…

How fresh the Dartle’s little wav… A steely silver, underlined with b… And flashing where the round cloud… Let drop the yellow sunshine to gl… And tip the edges of the waves wit…

I have been temperate always, But I am like to be very drunk With your coming. There have been times I feared to walk down the street

My Grandpapa lives in a wonderful… With a great many windows and door… There are stairs that go up, and s… And such beautiful, slippery floor… But of all of the rooms, even moth…

Why do the lilies goggle their ton… When I pluck them; And writhe and twist, And strangle themselves against my… So that I can hardly weave the ga…

Look, Dear, how bright the moonli… See where it casts the shadow of t… Far out upon the grass. And every… Of light night wind comes laden wi… Of opening flowers which never blo…

Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,

It was a gusty night, With the wind booming, and swoopin… Looping round corners, Sliding over the cobble-stones, Whipping and veering,

You—you— Your shadow is sunlight on a plate… Your footsteps, the seeding-place… Your hands moving, a chime of bell… The movement of your hands is the…

“Hullo, Alice!” “Hullo, Leon!” “Say, Alice, gi’ me a couple O’ them two for five cigars, Will yer?”

Whistle under the water, Make the water bubble to the tones… I call the bluebirds song into the… Wee-kee! Wee-kee-kee! Dawn is coming,

The fountain bent and straightened… In the night wind, Blowing like a flower. It gleamed and glittered, A tall white lily,

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

I pray to be the tool which to you… Long use has shaped and moulded ti… Apt for your need, and, unconsider… You take it for its service. I de… To be forgotten in the woven stran…

He perches in the slime, inert, Bedaubed with iridescent dirt. The oil upon the puddles dries To colours like a peacock’s eyes, And half-submerged tomato-cans