Quarterly, is it, money reproaches
‘Why do you let me lie here wastef
I am all you never had of goods an
You could get them still by writin
So I look at others, what they do

Lambs that learn to walk in snow
When their bleating clouds the air
Meet a vast unwelcome, know
Nothing but a sunless glare.
Newly stumbling to and fro

I thought it would last my time—
The sense that, beyond the town,
There would always be fields and f
Where the village louts could clim
Such trees as were not cut down;

‘Dockery was junior to you,
Wasn’t he?’ said the Dean. ‘His s
Death-suited, visitant, I nod. ‘A
You keep in touch with—’ Or remem
Black-gowned, unbreakfasted, and s

After comparing lives with you for
I see how I’ve been losing: all t
I’ve met a different gauge of girl
Grant that, and all the rest makes
My mortification at your pushovers

My wife and I have asked a crowd
To come and waste their time and o
You’d care to join us? In a pig’s
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees a

Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun

Love, we must part now: do not let
Calamitious and bitter. In the pa
There has been too much moonlight
Let us have done with it: for now
Never has sun more boldly paced th

Is it for now or for always,
The world hangs on a stalk?
Is it a trick or a trysting—place,
The woods we have found to walk?
Is it a mirage or miracle,

Strange to know nothing, never to
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I fee
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.