I killed them, but they would not… Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or slee… Nor guard from them nor hide in fl… Then in my agony I turned

They left their Babylon bare Of all its tall men, Of all its proud horses ; They made for Lebanon. And shadowy sowers went

Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep.

Nudes—stark and glistening, Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning f… And raging limbs Whirl over the floor one fire. For a shirt verminously busy

Slow, rigid, is this masquerade That passes as through a difficult… Heavily-heavily passes. What has she fed on? Who her tabl… Through the three seasons? What f…

The plunging limbers over the shat… Racketed with their rusty freight, Stuck out like many crowns of thor… And the rusty stakes like sceptres… To stay the flood of brutish men

Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we k… What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we… This poison—blasted track opens on…

A little breath can make a prayer, A little wind can take it And turn it back again to air: Then say, why should you make it? An ardent thought can make a word,

Girl To A Soldier On Leave Love! You love me—your eyes Have looked through death at mine. You have tempted a grave too much I let you—I repine.

My Maker shunneth me: Even as a wretch stricken with lep… So hold I pestilent supremacy. Yea! He Instil fled far as the ut… Beyond the unperturbed fastnesses…

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks, Too loth to show her face– Why should she shun the world? It is a holy place. Concealed to itself

You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid– Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid: O! Joys whose jewels pray

I love you, great new Titan! Am I not you? Napoleon or Caesar Out of you grew. Out of the unthinkable torture,

Caught still as Absalom, Surely the air hangs From the swayless cloud-boughs Like hair of Absalom Caught and hanging still.

Your ‘ Youth ’ has fallen from it… And you have fallen, you yourself. They knocked a soldier on the head… I mourn the poet who fell dead. And yet I think it was by chance,