(For Arthur Symons) I was not sorrowful, I could not… And all my memories were put to sl… I watched the river grow more whit… All day till evening I watched it…

I seek no more to bridge the gulf… Betwixt our separate ways; For vainly my heart prays, Hope droops her head and dies; I see the sad, tired answer in you…

There comes an end to summer, To spring showers and hoar rime; His mumming to each mummer Has somewhere end in time, And since life ends and laughter,

Why is there in the least touch of… More grace than other women’s lips… If love is but a slave in fleshly… Of flesh to flesh, wherever love m… Why choose vain grief and heavy-he…

A little while to walk with thee,… To lean on thee my weak and weary… Then evening comes: the winter sky… The leafless trees are black, the… A little while to hold thee and to…

‘A little, _passionately, not at a… She casts the snowy petals on the… And what care we how many petals f… Nay, wherefore seek the seasons to… It is but playing, and she will no…

Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because t… And who am I to be straitened in… Because thy face is fair? And wha… The fairest face of all is the fac… Because the land is cold, and howe…

The cherry-coloured velvet of your… Time hath not soiled: its fair emb… Gleam as when centuries ago they s… To what bright gallant of Her Dai… Whose slender fingers, long since…

Wine and woman and song, Three things garnish our way: Yet is day over long. Lest we do our youth wrong, Gather them while we may:

Sleep! Cast thy canopy Over this sleeper’s brain, Dim grow his memory, When he wake again. Love stays a summer night,

(1887-1895) Through the green boughs I hardly… They twined so close: the sun was… And now the sullen trees in sombre… Stand bare beneath the sinister, s…

I the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird.

The fire is out, and spent the war… (This is the end of every song man… The golden wine is drunk, the dreg… Bitter as wormwood and as salt as… And health and hope have gone the…

Before my light goes out for ever… graces, I would not reck of length of days… But cry: ‘One day of the great lo… Grant me to see and touch once mor…

Through what long heaviness, assay… Have these white monks been brough… Despising the world’s wisdom and t… Which from the body of this death… Within their austere walls no voic…