Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough— The swans’ breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas

JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down agai… Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down the stair.

Mid this hot green glowing gloom A word falls with a raindrop’s boo… Like baskets of ripe fruit in air The bird-songs seem, suspended whe… Those goldfinches—the ripe warm li…

Within your magic web of hair, lie… The fire and splendour of the anci… The dire gold of the comet’s wind-… The songs that turned to gold the… When all the stars of heaven sang…

Still falls the Rain— Dark as the world of man, black as… Blind as the nineteen hundred and… Upon the Cross. Still falls the Rain

Cried the navy-blue ghost Of Mr. Belaker The allegro Negro cocktail-shaker… “Why did the cock crow, Why am I lost,

CAME the great Popinjay Smelling his nosegay: In cages like grots The birds sang gavottes. ‘Herodiade’s flea

Lovely Semiramis Closes her slanting eyes: Dead is she long ago, From her fan sliding slow Parrot-bright fire’s feathers

Across the fields as green as spin… Cropped as close as Time to Green… Stands a high house; if at all, Spring comes like a Paisley shawl… Patternings meticulous

Metallic waves of people jar Through crackling green toward the… Where on the tables chattering-whi… The sharp drinks quarrel with the… Those coloured muslin blinds the s…

The floors are slippery with blood… The world gyrates too. God is goo… That while His wind blows out the… For those who hourly die for us— We still can dance each night.

The carriage brushes through the b… Leaves (violent jets from life to… Strong polished speed is plunging,… Between the showers of bright hot… The window-glasses glaze our faces

ACROSS the flat and the pastel… Two people go . . . . ‘And do you… When last we wandered this shore?’… For it is cold-hearted December.’ ‘Dead, the leaves that like asses’…

SAID the Lion to the Lioness-'W… No more a raging fire like the hea… (No liking but all lust)– Remember still the flowering of th… The rippling of bright muscles lik…

WHEN cold December Froze to grisamber The jangling bells on the sweet ro… Then fading slow And furred is the snow