Blue, blue is the grass about the… And the willows have overfilled th… And within, the mistress, in the m… White, white of face, hesitates, p… Slender, she puts forth a slender…

Rudyard the dud yard, Rudyard the false measure, Told 'em that glory Ain’t always a pleasure, But said it wuz glorious neverthel…

Palace in smoky light, Troy but a heap of smouldering bou… ANAXIFORMINGES! Aurunculei… Hear me. Cadmus of Golden Prow… The silver mirrors catch the brigh…

‘€˜Being no longer human, why shou… Pretend humanity or don the frail… Men have I known and men, but nev… Was grown so free an essence, or b… So simply element as what I am.

I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,

The eyes of this dead lady speak t… For here was love, was not to be d… And here desire, not to be kissed… The eyes of this dead lady speak t…

Me happy, night, night full of bri… Oh couch made happy by iny long de… How many words talked out with abu… Struggles when the lights were tak… Now with bared breasts she wrestle…

The light became her grace and dwe… Blind eyes and shadows that are fo… Lo, how the light doth melt us int… The broken sunlight for a healm sh… Who hath my heart in jurisdiction.

1 his papier-mâché, which you see,… Saith ’twas the worthiest of edito… Its mind was made up in 'the seven… Nor hath it ever since changed tha… It works to represent that school…

The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, Giulio Romano,

Heaven’s worry, scurries to earth; twisted planning, what’s to block… At sight of good plan, they turn t… the sight of their planning gives me a pain.

It is, and is not, I am sane enou… Since you have come this place has… This fabrication built of autumn r… Then there’s a goldish colour, dif… And one gropes in these things as…

This man knew out the secret ways… No man could paint such things who… And now she’s gone, who was his C… And you are here, who are ‘The Is… And here’s the thing that lasts th…

I stood still and was a tree amid… Knowing the truth of things unseen… Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god—feasting couple old that grew elm—oak amid the wold.

We flash across the level. We thunder thro’ the bridges. We bicker down the cuttings. We sway along the ridges. A rush of streaming hedges,