To the woods, to the woods is the… In his grotto the maiden sits alon… She gazes up with a weary smile At the rafter—hanging crocodile, The slowly swinging crocodile.

Lovers in the act dispense With such meum-teum sense As might warningly reveal What they must not pick or steal, And their nostrum is to say:

Bears gash the forest trees To mark the bounds Of their own hunting grounds; They follow the wild bees Point by point home

Oh, what a heavy sigh! Dicky, are you ailing? Even by this fireside, mother, My heart is failing. To—night across the down,

Have you spent the money I gave y… Ay, father I have. A fourpence on cakes, two pennies… To a beggar I gave. The lake of yellow brimstone boil…

Tangled in thought am I, Stumble in speech do I? Do I blunder and blush for the re… Wander aloof do I, Lean over gates and sigh,

Feet and faces tingle In that frore land: Legs wobble and go wingle, You scarce can stand. The skies are jewelled all around,

Penthesileia, dead of profuse wond… Was despoiled of her arms by Prin… Who, for love of that fierce white… Necrophily on her committed In the public view.

With a fork drive Nature out, She will ever yet return; Hedge the flowerbed all about, Pull or stab or cut or burn, She will ever yet return.

Now I begin to know at last, These nights when I sit down to r… The form and measure of that vast God we call Poetry, he who stoops And leaps me through his paper hoo…