#EnglishWriters
They leave their love-lorn haunts, Their sigh-warm floating Eden; And they are mute at once, Mortals by God unheeden, By their past kisses chidden.
I love you, great new Titan! Am I not you? Napoleon or Caesar Out of you grew. Out of the unthinkable torture,
IN THE WORKSHOP Dim watery lights gleaming on gibb… Faces speechful, barren of soul an… Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd a… insidious:
A worm fed on the heart of Corint… Babylon and Rome: Not Paris raped tall Helen, But this incestuous worm, Who lured her vivid beauty
A little breath can make a prayer, A little wind can take it And turn it back again to air: Then say, why should you make it? An ardent thought can make a word,
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
Your ‘ Youth ’ has fallen from it… And you have fallen, you yourself. They knocked a soldier on the head… I mourn the poet who fell dead. And yet I think it was by chance,
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
To sweeten a swift minute so With such rare fragrance of sweet… And make the after hours go In a blank yearning each on each ; To drain the springs till they be…
I did not pluck at all, And I am sorry now: The garden is not barred But the boughs are heavy with snow… The flake-blossoms thickly fall
God’s mercy shines ; And our full hearts must make reco… For grief that burst from out its… Into strange sunlit bliss. I stood where glowed
She stood-a hill-ensceptred Queen… The glory streaming from her ; While Heaven flashed her rays bet… And shed eternal summer. The gates of morning opened wide
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
As the pregnant womb of night Thrills with imprisoned light, Misty, nebulous-born, Growing deeper into her morn, So man, with no sudden stride,
O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily ; Your dim lips as your lids unclose Murmur your own sad threnody. 0 as the soft and frail lights bre…