My familiar ghost again Comes to see what he can see, Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Spying on our privacy. Slam the window, bolt the door,
Old Mr. Philosopher Comes for Ben and Claire, An ugly man, a tall man, With bright—red hair. The books that he’s written
Feet and faces tingle In that frore land: Legs wobble and go wingle, You scarce can stand. The skies are jewelled all around,
Here is this patchwork quilt I’ve… Of patterned silks and old brocade… Small faded rags in memory rich Sewn each to each with feather sti… But if you stare aghast perhaps
Take now a country mood, Resolve, distil it: — Nine Acre swaying alive, June flowers that fill it, Spicy sweet—briar bush,
Here they lie who once learned her… All that is taught of hurt or fear… Dead, but by free will they died: They were true men, they had pride…
Caria and Philistia considered Only pre—marital adventures wise; The bourgeois French argue contra… Socrate and Plato burked the issu… (Namely, how man—and—woman love sh…
I’ve watched the Seasons passing… In the fields between La Bassée a… Primroses and the first warm day o… Red poppy floods of June, August, and yellowing Autumn, so
Yet once an earlier David took Smooth pebbles from the brook: Out between the lines he went To that one—sided tournament, A shepherd boy who stood out fine
Sleepy Betsy from her pillow Sees the post and ball Of her sister’s wooden bedstead Shadowed on the wall. Now this grave young warrior stadn…
Gulp down your wine, old friends o… Roar through the darkness, stamp a… And lay ghost hands on everything, But leave the noonday’s warm sunsh… To living lads for mirth and wine.
SHE: You’ll not forget these roc… HE: How could I? Never: whatever… SHE: What do you think might hap… Might you fall out of love? —did y… HE: Never, never! `Whatever’ was…
Have you spent the money I gave y… Ay, father I have. A fourpence on cakes, two pennies… To a beggar I gave. The lake of yellow brimstone boil…
Are you shaken, are you stirred By a whisper of love, Spellbound to a word Does Time cease to move, Till her calm grey eye
Blacksmith Green had three strong… With bread and beef did fill 'em, Now John and Ned are perished and… But plenty remains of William. John Green was a whiskey drinker,