LESBIA’S daughter, I shall tel… Here’s no fit amber for such a dai… Let them embalm your beauty whoso… In boastful odes, I’m a more hone… Lovers’ abodes with poets’ words a…

(To the memory of William Hickey,… COMING out of India with ten th… Exchanged for flesh and temper, a… Whose devil barters with digestion… For dipping his fingers in the Ro…

RANKS of electroplated cubes, dw… Like the other pasture, the trigon… Death’s candy-bed. Stone caked on… Dry pyramids and racks of iron bal… Life is observed, a precipitate of…

You can shuffle and scuffle and sc… You can rattle the knockers and kn… Or batter the doorsteps with bucke… Till the Deputy-Governor sobs. You can sneak up a suitable plank

FEELING hunger and cold, feelin… Food, feeling fire, feeling Pity and pain, tasting Time in a kiss, tasting Anger and tears, touching

‘BEES of old Spanish wine Pipe at this Inn to-night, Music and candleshine Fill the dim chambers . . . . ’Fans toss and ladies pace,

ADAM, because on the mind’s road… Your mouth is always in a hurry, Because you know odes And ways to make a curry, Because you fall in love with word…

GUTTED of station, noise alone, The crow’s voice trembles down the… As if this nitrous flange of stone Wept suddenly with such a cry; As if the rock found lips to sigh,

SOMETIMES she is like sherry,… Like light through an oriel window… Sometimes she is the colour of lio… Sometimes as bruised with shadows… Sometimes she moves like rivers, s…

I saw Time flowing like a hundred… That fly behind the daylight, foxe… Or piercing, like the quince-brigh… Of sun gone thrusting under Harbo… So Time, the wave, enfolds me in…

THE plough that marks on Harley’… In flying earth its print Throws up, like death itself conce… A fang of rosy flint, A flake of stone, by fingers hewed

No pause! The buried pipes ring o… The flour-faced Antic runs from s… Now Columbine, with scarlet pout, Floats in the smoking moon of ligh… Now programmes wave, heads bend be…

TAKE your great light away, your… I’m off to feed myself as quick as… You’re perfectly impossible to com… I’m such a busy man. Good God, haven’t you got a circu…

MUSIC, on the air’s edge, rides… Plumed like empastured Caesars of… With a god’s helmet; now, in the g… Of sunlight, the iron cloak, the… Melt to enchanted flesh—a voice is…

MY words are the poor footmen of… Of what you cry, you trumpets, eac… With mouths of air; my speech is t… Of yours, the Roman tongue—but mi… By harsher bridles, dumb with brea…