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

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

The moon is in an ecstasy, It wanes not nor can grow ; The heavens are in a mist of love, And deepest knowledge know: What things in nature seem to move

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

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,

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,

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

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

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

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…

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,

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

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…

What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss? Three lives hath one life—