The free fair life that has never… If I were what you seem to be and… I know I walk upon the earth, but… My spirit and your spirit lies, yo… The angels that lie watching us, t…

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

I walk and wonder To hear the birds sing, Without you my lady How can there be Spring? I see the pink blossoms

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

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,

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…

Dim apprehension of a trust Comes over me this quiet hour, As though the silence were a flowe… And this, its perfume, dark like d… My individual self would cling

If you are fire and I am fire, Who blows the flame apart So that desire eludes desire Around one central heart? A single root and separate bough,

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

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

My eyes catch ruddy necks Sturdily pressed back - All a red brick moving glint. Like flaming pendulums, hands Swing across the khaki -

Moses, from whose loins I sprung, Lit by a lamp in his blood Ten immutable rules, a moon For mutable lampless men. The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy,

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,

I have lived in the underworld so… How can you, a creature of light, Without terror understand the song And unmoved hear what moves in nig… I am a spirit that yours has found…

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?