Like the bloom on a grape is the e… And a first faint frost the wind h… Yet the fear of his breath avails… The withered leaves on the cold gr… For they huddle and whisper in pha…

Emerging from deep sleep my eyes u… To a pursuing strangeness. O to b… Where but a moment past I was, th… The place, the time I know not, o… Far from this banished and so shru…

Time has stored all, but keeps his… In secret, beyond all our probe or… There flows the human story, vast… And here a muddy trickle smears th… The things our hearts remember mak…

The Man. O tyrannous Angel, dreadful God, Who taught thee thus to wield thy… So jealous of a happy heart, Thou smot’st our happy souls apart…

The shrines of old are broken down… The faiths that knelt at them are… Nothing’s strange, and nought unkn… All’s been done and all been said. Tired of knowledge, now we sigh

When I am weary, thronged with th… That tease as harsh winds tease th… I still my mind at evening and put… But the image of my Love, where a… The thoughts of her fall gently as…

Pale was the early day, Fog—white the winter air, When up a hill—side bare, Roughened with rimy grass, I took my thoughtless way.

Trefoil and Quatrefoil! What shaped those destinied small… Or numbered them under the soil? I lift my dazzled sight From grass to sky,

The wind has fal’n asleep; the bou… Is quiet; the warm sun’s gone; the… Sinks and is almost lost; Yet the April day glows on within… Happy as the white buds in the blu…

Vision of peace, Joy without stai… That on my vext heart sweetly shin… Hast thou, too, known the touch of… Cares and dark hours, when in vain For thy lost quiet thou repinest?

Down in a shaded garden I laid upon earth my head: The deep trees murmured, darkly fr… Over my bed; I looked through living leaves to…

Of a tower, of a tower, white In the warm Italian night, Of a tower that shines and springs I dream, and of our delight. Of doves, of a hundred wings

In the breathing of a breath— How, who shall say? Ghostly mist has flowered Into flaming day. Dewy from furze to furze

I am weary of doing and dating The day with the thing to be done, This painful self translating To a language not my own. Give me to fashion a thing;

O Thou who seekest me Through the day’s heartless hurry… Who followest me to my thought’s f… Nay, who art gone before— Sustain me, O sustain