(TO JAMES WELCH) Dear Desk, Farewell! I spoke you… In phrases neither sweet nor soft, But at the end I come to see That thou a friend hast been to me…

May is building her house. With a…    She is roofing over the glimmer… Of the oak and the beech hath she…    And, spinning all day at her se… With arras of leaves each wind-swa…

I was reading a letter of yours to… The date—O a thousand years ago! The postmark is there—the month wa… How, in God’s name, did I let you… What wonderful things for a girl t…

AH, London! London! our delight, Great flower that opens but at nig… Great City of the midnight sun, Whose day begins when day is done. Lamp after lamp against the sky

O spirit of Life, by whatsoe’er a… Known among men, even as our fathe… Before thee, and as little childre… For counsel in Life’s dread predi… Even we, with all our lore,

O never laugh again! Laughter is dead, Deep hiding in her grave, A sacred thing. O never laugh again,

In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.

Dear Love, you ask if I be true, If other women move The heart that only beats for you With pulses all of love. Out in the chilly dew one morn

A caravan from China comes;    For miles it sweetens all the a… With fragrant silks and dreaming g…    Attar and myrrh— A caravan from China comes.

Our tears, our songs, our laurels—… To thee in thy Gethsemane of loss… Stretched in thine unimagined agon… On Hell’s last engine of the Iron… For such a world as this that thou…

The Rose has left the garden, Here she but faintly lives, Lives but for me, Within this little urn of pot-pour… Of all that was

I am so fair that wheresoe’er I w… Men yearn with strange desire to k… Stretch out their hands to touch m… And women follow me from place to… A poet writing honey of his dear

You ask and I send. It is well, y… A lily hangs dead on its stalk, ah… A dream hangs dead on a life it bl… Shall it flaunt its death where sa… In the cold dank wind of our memor…

Why did you go away without one wo… Wave of the hand, or token of good… Nor leave some message for me with… Some sign to find you by; Some stray of blossom on the winte…

So sang young Love in high and ho… Of a white Love that hath no eart… So rapt within his vision he did s… Less like a boyish singer than a s… Ah, Boy, it is a dream for life t…