Half a loaf, half a loaf, Half a loaf? Urn-hum? Down through the vale of gloom Slouched the ten million, Onward th’ 'ungry blokes,

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…

The wan sun westers, faint and slo… The eastern distance glimmers gray… An eerie haze comes creeping low Across the little, lonely bay; And from the sky-line far away

Aye! I am a poet and upon my tomb Shall maidens scatter rose leaves And men myrtles, ere the night Slays day with her dark sword. ‘Lo! this thing is not mine

Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Cro… And the rope of the Black Electio… ’Tis the faith of the Fool that a… Can never achieve perfection: So 'It’s O, for the time of the n…

IN o more for us the little sighi… No more the winds at twilight trou… Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of w…

I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak that is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I

I sat on the Dogana’s steps For the gondolas cost too much, th… And there were not “those girls”,… And the Buccentoro twenty yards o… And the lit cross—beams, that year…

DOLE THE BELL! BELL THE… Whom can these duds attack? Soapy Sime? Slipp’ry Mac? Naught but a shirt is there Such as the fascists wear,

“Tout aux tavernes et aux filles.” Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-j… Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?

I ha’ seen them 'mid the clouds on… Lo! they pause not for love nor fo… Yet their eyes are as the eyes of… When the white hart breaks his cov… And the white wind breaks the morn…

There is a wheel inside my head Of wantonness and wine, An old, cracked fiddle is begging… But the wind with scents of the se… And the sun seems glad to shine.

Rest me with Chinese colours, For I think the glass is evil. The wind moves above the wheat– With a silver crashing, A thin war of metal.

The harsh acts of your levity! Many and many. I am hung here, a scare-crow for l… Escape! There is, O Idiot, no es… Flee if you like into Ranaus,

The small dogs look at the big dog… They observe unwieldy dimensions And curious imperfections of odor. Here is the formal male group: The young men look upon their seni…