#EnglishWriters
I love you, great new Titan! Am I not you? Napoleon or Caesar Out of you grew. Out of the unthinkable torture,
I killed them, but they would not… Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or slee… Nor guard from them nor hide in fl… Then in my agony I turned
Ah, Koelue! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go, Or change in any way, What were the use, if on my eyes
Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep.
Godhead’s lip hangs When our pulses have no golden tre… And his whips are flicked by mice And all star-amorous things. Drops, drops of shivering quiet
Space beats the ruddy freedom of t… Their naked dances with man’s spir… By the root side of the tree of li… (The under side of things And shut from earth’s profoundest…
She bade us listen to the singing… In tones far sweeter than its own: For fear that she should cease and… We built the bird a feigned throne… Shrined in her gracious glory-givi…
Snow is a strange white word. No ice or frost Has asked of bud or bird For Winter’s cost. Yet ice and frost and snow
If you are fire and I am fire, Who blows the flame apart So that desire eludes desire Around one central heart? A single root and separate bough,
What if you shut your eyes and loo… Yea, look with all the spirit’s ey… While mystic unrevealed skies Unfold like pages of a book Wherein new scenes of wonder rare
Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows
What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss? Three lives hath one life—
Lamp-lit faces, to you What is your starry dew? Gold flowers of the night blue! Deep in wet pavement’s slime Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,
Dim apprehension of a trust Comes over me this quiet hour, As though the silence were a flowe… And this, its perfume, dark like d… My individual self would cling
I walk and wonder To hear the birds sing, Without you my lady How can there be Spring? I see the pink blossoms