It winds along the face of a cliff This path which I long to explore… And over it dashes a waterfall, And the air is full of the roar And the thunderous voice of waters…

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…

As for a moment he stands, in hard… Poised on the fircrested rock, ove… Gleams in the wavering sunlight, w… So for a moment I stand, my feet… Eagerly scanning the future which…

This afternoon was the colour of w… The trees glittered with the tumbl… The sidewalks shone like alleys of… And the houses ran along them laug… Under a tree in the park,

Spread on the roadway, With open-blown jackets, Like black, soaring pinions, They swoop down the hillside, The Cyclists.

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

Now what in the name of the sun an… Is the meaning of this most unholy… Do men find life so full of humour… That for want of excitement they s… Fifteen millions of soldiers with…

Thou dear and well-loved haunt of… How often in some distant gallery, Gained by a little painful spiral… Far from the halls and corridors w… The crowd of casual readers, have…

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…

The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…

Great master! Boyish, sympathetic… Whose orbed and ripened genius lig… From life’s slim, twisted tendril… In crimson-sphered completeness; g… Of crystal portals through whose o…

Over the shop where silk is sold Still the dragon kites are flying.

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…

'T is you that are the music, not… The song is but a door which, open… Lets forth the pent-up melody insi… Your spirit’s harmony, which clear… Sings but of you. Throughout your…

Alone, I whet my soul against the… Unwrinkled sky, with its long stre… I polish it with sunlight and pale… And damascene it with young blowin… Into the handle of my life I set