1814-1914 When, on a novel’s newly printed p… We find a maudlin eulogy of sin, And read of ways that harlots wand… And of sick souls that writhe in h…

A few long-hoarded pennies in his… Behold him stand; A kilted Hedonist, perplexed and… The joy that once he had, The first delight of ownership is…

My songs should be as lilies fair, And roses made of crimson light, To lie amid the fragrant hair And on the breast of my delight. Such glory is for them too high;

Severe against the pleasant arc of… The great stone box is cruelly dis… The street becomes more dreary fro… And vagrant breezes touch its wall… Here sullen convicts in their chai…

Vain is the chiming of forgotten b… That the wind sways above a ruined… Vainer his voice in whom no longer… Hunger that craves immortal Bread… Light songs we breathe that perish…

Why is that wanton gossip Fame So dumb about this man’s affairs? Why do we titter at his name Who come to buy his curious wares? Here is a shop of wonderment.

1 When you had played with lif… 2 And made it drink and lust… 3 You flung it back into God’… 4 And thought you did a nobl… 5 “Lo, I have lived and loved…

(For Alden March) With drooping sail and pennant That never a wind may reach, They float in sunless waters Beside a sunless beach.

(For Edward J. Wheeler) Within the Jersey City shed The engine coughs and shakes its h… The smoke, a plume of red and whit… Waves madly in the face of night.

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing… A tree that looks at God all day,

Not on the lute, nor harp of many… Shall all men praise the Master o… Our life is brief, one saith, and… And skilled must be the laureates… Silent, O lips that utter foolish…

With shameless and incessant lust Thy tremulous hot hands are thrust Upon my body’s loveliness. O loathsome Age, thy foul caress Puts on my heart a deadly blight,

Whenever I walk to Suffern along… I go by a poor old farmhouse with… I suppose I’ve passed it a hundre… And look at the house, the tragic… I never have seen a haunted house,…

(For A. K. K.) What distant mountains thrill and… Beneath our Lady Folly’s tread? Why has she left us, wise in woe, Shrewd, practical, uncomforted?

(For Aline) Now by what whim of wanton chance Do radiant eyes know sombre days? And feet that shod in light should… Walk weary and laborious ways?