Clouds
Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow, Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow Up to the white moon’s hidden loveliness. Some
The Hill
Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said “Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, and birds sing still,
The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
The Day that Youth had died, There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country’s ends, Those scatter’d friends Who had lived the boon companions of his prime, And laughed with him
Dining-Room Tea
When you were there, and you, and you, Happiness crowned the night; I too, Laughing and looking, one of all, I watched the quivering lamplight fall On plate and flowers and pouring tea And
Mary and Gabriel
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way, Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day, As wine that blushes water through. And soon, Out of the gold air of the afternoon, One knelt
Home
I came back late and tired last night Into my little room, To the long chair and the firelight And comfortable gloom. But as I entered softly in I saw a woman there, The
The One Before the Last
I dreamt I was in love again With the One Before the Last, And smiled to greet the pleasant pain Of that innocent young past. But I jumped to feel how sharp had been
II. Safety
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest He who has found our hid security, Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest, And heard our word, ‘Who is so safe
Waikiki
Warm perfumes like a breath from vine and tree Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes Somewhere an ‘eukaleli’ thrills and cries And stabs with pain the night’s brown savagery. And dark scents
The Call
Out of the nothingness of sleep, The slow dreams of Eternity, There was a thunder on the deep: I came, because you called to me. I broke the Night’s primeval bars, I dared the
Thoughts On The Shape Of The Human Body
How can we find? how can we rest? how can We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man? We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate, Who love the unloving and lover hate,