Mismet
He was leaning by a face, He was looking into eyes, And he knew a trysting-place, And he heard seductive sighs; But the face, And the eyes, And the place, And the sighs, Were
To Outer Nature
SHOW thee as I thought thee When I early sought thee, Omen-scouting, All undoubting Love alone had wrought thee Wrought thee for my pleasure, Planned thee as a measure For expounding And resounding Glad
The Masked Face
I found me in a great surging space, At either end a door, And I said: “What is this giddying place, With no firm-fixéd floor, That I knew not of before?” “It is Life,”
Thoughts Of Phena
at news of her death Not a line of her writing have I Not a thread of her hair, No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby I may picture
My Spirit Will Not Haunt The Mound
My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best. My phantom-footed shape will go When nightfall grays Hither and thither along
The Dead Drummer
I They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around; And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound. II Young Hodge
An Autumn Rain-Scene
There trudges one to a merry-making With sturdy swing, On whom the rain comes down. To fetch the saving medicament Is another bent, On whom the rain comes down. One slowly drives his herd
The Cave Of The Unborn
I rose at night and visited The Cave of the Unborn, And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head To speed their advent
The Souls of the Slain
I The thick lids of Night closed upon me Alone at the Bill Of the Isle by the Race {1} – Many-caverned, bald, wrinkled of face – And with darkness and silence the spirit
In a Wood
Pale beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day? When the rains skim and skip, Why mar sweet comradeship, Blighting with poison-drip Neighborly spray? Heart-halt
"I Need Not Go"
I need not go Through sleet and snow To where I know She waits for me; She will wait me there Till I find it fair, And have time to spare From company. When
Rome: The Vatican-Sala Delle Muse
I sat in the Muses’ Hall at the mid of the day, And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away, And the chiselled shapes to combine in a haze of
To An Orphan Child
A Whimsey AH, child, thou art but half thy darling mother’s; Hers couldst thou wholly be, My light in thee would outglow all in others; She would relive to me. But niggard Nature’s trick
I Said To Love
I said to Love, “It is not now as in old days When men adored thee and thy ways All else above; Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One Who spread a heaven
Transformations
Portion of this yew Is a man my grandsire knew, Bosomed here at its foot: This branch may be his wife, A ruddy human life Now turned to a green shoot. These grasses must