Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoeni… Thus she sails through windy skies… Thus in the willow’s arms she lies… Turn to the East or turn to the W…

She has danced for leagues and lea… Over thorns and thistles, Prancing to a tune of Griegg’s Performed on willow whistles. Antelopes behold her, dazed,

First Traveller: What’s that lyin… Second Traveller: A crooked stick… First Traveller: What’s it worth,… Second Traveller: Isn’t this a ri… First Traveller: No, a trick.

My love came up from Barnegat, The sea was in his eyes; He trod as softly as a cat And told me terrible lies. His hair was yellow as new-cut pin…

Beauty has a tarnished dress, And a patchwork cloak of cloth Dipped deep in mournfulness, Striped like a moth. Wet grass where it trails

You are a rose, but set with sharp… You are a pretty bird that pecks a… You are a little squirrel on a tre… Pelting me with the prickly fruit… A diamond, torn from a crystal min…

Why should my sleepy heart be taug… To whistle mocking-bird replies? This is another bird you’ve caught… Soft-feathered, with a falcon’s ey… The bird Imagination,

I cannot give you the Metropolita… I cannot give you heaven; Nor the nine Visigoth crowns in t… Nor happiness, even. But I can give you a very small p…

The woman in the pointed hood And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon’… Whose orchard climbs to the balsam… Has done a cruel thing. To her back door-step came a ghost…

Alembics turn to stranger things Strange things, but never while we… Shall magic turn this bronze that… To singing water in a sieve. The trumpets of Cæsar’s guard

This is the bricklayer; hear the t… Of his heavy load dumped down on s… His lustrous bricks are brighter t… His smoking mortar whiter than bon… Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten…

I shall die hidden in a hut In the middle of an alder wood, With the back door blind and bolte… And the front door locked for good… I shall lie folded like a saint,

Once, when my husband was a child,… To his father’s table, one who cal… In sunbleached corduroys paler tha… His look was grave and kind; he bo… Of the dead singer of Senlac, and…

The sailorman’s child And the girl of the witch— They can’t be defiled By touching pitch. The sailorman’s son

I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb