IN tombs of gold and lapis lazuli
Bodies of holy men and women exude
Miraculous oil, odour of violet.
But under heavy loads of trampled
Lie bodies of the vampires full of

WHEN you and my true lover meet
And he plays tunes between your fe
Speak no evil of the soul,
Nor think that body is the whole,
For I that am his daylight lady

WITH the old kindness, the old d
She lies, her lovely piteous head
Propped upon pillows, rouge on the
She would not have us sad because
And when she meets our gaze her ey

IF you, that have grown old, were
Neither catalpa tree nor scented l
Should hear my living feet, nor wo
Where we wrought that shall break
Let the new faces play what tricks

FOR one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sa
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate,
Mankind inanimate fantasy’.

POETRY, music, I have loved, an
Because of those new dead
That come into my soul and escape
Confusion of the bed,
Or those begotten or unbegotten

THEY must to keep their certaint
All that are different of a base i
Pull down established honour; hawk
Whatever their loose fantasy inven
And murmur it with bated breath, a

I SAT on cushioned otter-skin:
My word was law from Ith to Emain
And shook at Inver Amergin
The hearts of the world-troubling
And drove tumult and war away

A Dramatic Poem
The deck of an ancient ship. At
with a large square sail hiding a
on that side. The tiller is at th
coming through an opening in the b

HERE at right of the entrance th
Human, superhuman, a bird’s round
Everything else withered and mummy
What great tomb-haunter sweeps the
(Something may linger there though