Poets with whom I learned my trad
Companions of the Cheshire Cheese
Here’s an old story I’ve remade,
Imagining 'twould better please
Your cars than stories now in fash

Come play with me;
Why should you run
Through the shaking tree
As though I’d a gun
To strike you dead?

While I, that reed-throated whisp
Who comes at need, although not no
A clear articulation in the air,
But inwardly, surmise companions
Beyond the fling of the dull ass’s

Once more the storm is howling, an
Under this cradle—hood and coverli
My child sleeps on. There is no
But Gregory’s wood and one bare h
Whereby the haystack—and roof—leve

That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;

THE Powers whose name and shape
Have pulled the Immortal Rose;
And though the Seven Lights bowed
The Polar Dragon slept,
His heavy rings uncoiled from glim

Overcome—O bitter sweetness,
Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a
The rich man and his affairs,
The fat flocks and the fields’ fat
Mariners, rough harvesters;

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;

A man came slowly from the setting
To Emer, raddling raiment in her
And said, “I am that swineherd wh
Go watch the road between the wood
But now I have no need to watch i

WHAT they undertook to do
They brought to pass;
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.