Have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills :: Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain: :: I have seen the lady April bring in the daffodils, :: Bringing the springing grass and soft warm April rain. :: I have heard the song of the blossoms and the old chant…

The sense of the world is short, :: Long and various the report, :: To love and be beloved;:: Men and gods have not outlearned it,:: And how oft soe’er they’ve turned it,:: ‘Tis not to be improved.

Goldbrown upon the sated flood:: The rockvine clusters lift and sway;:: Vast wings above the lambent waters brood:: Of sullen day. :: :: :: A waste of waters ruthlessly:: Sways and uplifts its weedy mane:: Where brooding day stares down upon the sea:: In dull disdain. :: :: :: Uplift and sway, O golden vine,::…

Love is like the wild rose-briar,:: Friendship like the holly-tree—-:: The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms:: But which will bloom most constantly?:: :: :: The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,:: Its summer blossoms scent the air;:: Yet wait till winter comes again :: And who will call the wild-briar fair?:: ::…

Nor dread nor hope attend:: A dying animal;:: A man awaits his end:: Dreading and hoping all;:: Many times he died,:: Many times rose again.:: A great man in his pride:: Confronting murderous men:: Casts derision upon:: Supersession of breath;:: He knows death to the bone:: Man has created death.

Brother, I am fire:: Surging under the ocean floor.:: I shall never meet you, brother:: Not for years anyhow;:: Maybe thousands of years, brother.:: Then I will warm you,:: Hold you close, wrap you in circles,:: Use you and change you:: Maybe thousands of years, brother. :: :: :: ::

Gaunt in gloom,:: The pale stars their torches,:: Enshrouded, wave.:: Ghostfires from heaven’s far verges faint illume,:: Arches on soaring arches,:: Night’s sindark nave.:: Seraphim,:: The lost hosts awaken:: To service till:: In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,:: Raised when she has and shaken:: Her thurible.:: And long and loud,:: To night’s nave upsoaring,::…

O Rose thou art sick.:: The invisible worm.:: That flies in the night:: In the howling storm: :: :: :: Has found out thy bed:: Of crimson joy: ::And his dark secret love:: Does thy life destroy. :: :: ::

I was angry with my friend;:: I told my wrath, my wrath did end.:: I was angry with my foe: :: I told it not, my wrath did grow. :: :: :: And I waterd it in fears,:: Night and morning with my tears: :: And I sunned it with smiles, :: And with soft…

I am writing this note in haste. At the moment I am getting mauled to death by a mob of pigmen! Yes, I know what you are thinking: why am I writing this note at all, if I am about to be savagely mutilated by pigmen, when I could be running? Well actually, its a…