Streaked with immortal blasphemies… Betwixt His twin eternities The Shaper of mortal destinies Sits in that limbo of dreamless sl… Some nothing that hath shadows dee…

She stood-a hill-ensceptred Queen… The glory streaming from her ; While Heaven flashed her rays bet… And shed eternal summer. The gates of morning opened wide

God’s mercy shines ; And our full hearts must make reco… For grief that burst from out its… Into strange sunlit bliss. I stood where glowed

Godhead’s lip hangs When our pulses have no golden tre… And his whips are flicked by mice And all star-amorous things. Drops, drops of shivering quiet

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,

Lamp-lit faces, to you What is your starry dew? Gold flowers of the night blue! Deep in wet pavement’s slime Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,

I snatched two poppies From the parapet’s ledge, Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge. Behind my ear

She bade us listen to the singing… In tones far sweeter than its own: For fear that she should cease and… We built the bird a feigned throne… Shrined in her gracious glory-givi…

Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows

What if you shut your eyes and loo… Yea, look with all the spirit’s ey… While mystic unrevealed skies Unfold like pages of a book Wherein new scenes of wonder rare

Fret the nonchalant noon With your spleen Or your gay brow, For the motion of your spirit Ever moves with these.

Wan, fragile faces of joy, Pitiful mouths that strive To light with smiles the place We dream we walk alive, To you I stretch my hands,

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

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

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