O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily ; Your dim lips as your lids unclose Murmur your own sad threnody. 0 as the soft and frail lights bre…

IN THE WORKSHOP Dim watery lights gleaming on gibb… Faces speechful, barren of soul an… Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd a… insidious:

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

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

And all her soft dark hair Breathed for him like a prayer, And her white lost face Was prisoned to sonie far place. Love was not denied–

Ah, Koelue! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go, Or change in any way, What were the use, if on my eyes

As a sword in the sun A glory calling a glory Our eyes, seeing it run, Capture its gleam for our story. Singer, marvellous gleam

Crazed shadows, from no golden bod… That I can see, embrace me warm ; All is purple and closed Round by night’s arm. A brilliance wings from dark-lit v…

By what pale light or moon-pale sh… Drifts my soul in lonely flight? Regions God had floated o’er Ere He touched the world with lig… Not in Heaven and not in earth

To sweeten a swift minute so With such rare fragrance of sweet… And make the after hours go In a blank yearning each on each ; To drain the springs till they be…

Snow is a strange white word. No ice or frost Has asked of bud or bird For Winter’s cost. Yet ice and frost and snow

Wreck not the ageing heart of quie… With alien uproar and rude jolly c… Which satyr like to a mild maidens… Ripens not wisdom, but a large rec… Give them their withered peace, th…

As the pregnant womb of night Thrills with imprisoned light, Misty, nebulous-born, Growing deeper into her morn, So man, with no sudden stride,

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

0, in a world of men and women, Where all things seemed so strange… And speech the common world called… For me was a vain mimicry, I thought-O, am I one in sorrow?