What It Does
The sea bit,
As they said it would,
And the hill slid, . . .
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
. . .
What to Say Upon Being Asked to Be Friends
Why speak of hate, when I do bleed for love?
Not hate, my love, but Love doth bite my tongue
Till I taste stuff that makes my rhyming rough . . .
When All My Five and Country Senses See
When all my five and country senses see,
The fingers will forget green thumbs and mark
How, through the halfmoon’s vegetable eye, . . .
When I Am Asked
When I am asked
how I began writing poems,
I talk about the indifference of nature. . . .
When I Consider How My Light Is Spent
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide . . .
When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, . . .
When You Are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look . . .
The White City
I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.
Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch . . .
The Windhover
I caught this morning morning's minionminion favorite, darling; also, an underling or servant, king-
dom of daylight's dauphindauphin prince; a French historical term, along with “chevalier”, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and . . .
