WHO shall forget till his last ho… Until the useful service of the du… Hath drawn the emptying cerements… Until the Earth hath eaten love a… Mirth, Beauty, and their kin . .…

ASK not my pardon! For if one ha… Once to forgive the god that he ha… No further creed Can that god give; but 'neath the… Lies bruisèd like a reed.

DEAD man! will you ride with me, As you rode that night of yore, Will you ride with me, once more To Tintagel by the sea? When those savage words were said—

Do you remember, Leda? There are those who love, to whom… Great gladness: such things have n… Love looks and has no mercy, bring… Long doom to others. Such was I.

I will not have roses in my room a… Nor listen to sonnets of Michael… To-night nor any night, nor fret m… With all the trouble of things tha… I will be as other women-come and…

WHEN, on an empty night in later… Thou ponderest over sorrowful swee… While troubling with cold hands th… Of Memory’s lute now silent in th… These words shall sweep with soft…

FAREWELL is said! Yea, but I… All that my Greeting gave. In you hath Hope her doom and Joy… Still you go crowned with old imag… Clad in the purple that young pass…

The low bay melts into a ring of s… And slips it on the shore’s reluct… Though in an hour the tide will tu… Forsaking her because the moon per… But the black wood that leans and…

If I have given myself to you, an… And if these pale hands are not vi… Nor these bright lips beneath your… What matters it? I do not stand n… By your old foolish judgments of d…

‘I thought you loved me.’ ‘No, it… ‘When we stood there, closer than… Was shining and queer in your hair… ‘That made you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Just the… Under the tree?’ ‘Well, your mout…

O, MANDRAGORA, many sing in p… Of life, and death, and immortalit… Of passion, that goes famished all… Of Faith, or fantasy; Thou, all unpraised, unsung, I ma…

THIS POEM, DEDICATED… To twilight heads comes Death as… As with the gentle fading of the y… Fades rose, folds leaf, falls frui… Unquestioning draw near,

Men wondered why I loved you, and… How sweet your slow, divine stupid… Your look of earth, your sense of… So rich, so strange, so all unlike… After the temper of my sails, my l…

Dawn has flashed up the startled s… Night has gone out beneath the hil… Many sweet times; before our eyes Dawn makes and unmakes about us st… The magic that we call the rose.

IN days of ancient history Who were you? Tell me if you know… Between your kisses answer me To-night, Chicot. Were you a faun by Castaly