For I was a gaunt, grave councill… Being in all things wise, and very… But I have put aside this folly a… That old age weareth for a cloak. I was quite strong—at least they s…

When, when, and whenever death clo… Moving naked over Acheron Upon the one raft, victor and conq… Marius and Jugurtha together, one tangle of shadows.

These tales of old disguisings, ar… Strange myths of souls that found… Unwonted folk that spake an hostil… Some soul from all the rest who’d… The star—span acres of a former lo…

An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs,

A square, squat room (a cellar on… Drab to the soul, drab to the very… Plasters astray in unnatural-looki… Scissors and lint and apothecary’s… Here, on a bench a skeleton would…

At Rochecoart, Where the hills part in three ways, And three valleys, full of winding… Fork out to south and north,

Three spirits came to me And drew me apart To where the olive boughs Lay stripped upon the ground: Pale carnage beneath bright mist.

For the seven lakes, and by no man… Rain; empty river; a voyage, Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain… Under the cabin roof was one lante… The reeds are heavy; bent;

Zeus lies in Ceres’ bosom Taishan is attended of loves under Cythera, before sunrise And he said: “Hay aquí mucho cato… catolithismo

Who, who will be the next man to e… Love interferes with fidelities; The gods have brought shame on the… Each man wants the pomegranate for… Amiable and harmonious people are…

As a bathtub lined with white porc… When the hot water gives out or go… So is the slow cooling of our chiv… O my much praised but-not-altogeth…

The ways are green with the gladde… Of the young year’s fairest daught… O, the shadows that fleet o’er the… O, the magic of running water! The spirit of spring is in every t…

Ha! sir, I have seen you sniffing… about among my flowers. And what, pray, do you know about horticulture, you capriped? ‘Come, Auster, come Apeliota,

I see by the morning papers That America’s sturdy sons Have started a investigation Of the making of guns. The morning paper tells me

Turned from the 'eau-forte Par Jaquemart’ To the strait head Of Messalina: ‘His true Penelope