. . .my pulse, like a soft drum
But still I love thee without art Ancient person of my heart
Gull against the wind
We should like to know how that was done
Their eyes, their ancient glittering eyes, are gay
Western wind, when wilt thou blow
And take the winds of march with beauty
God said, let Newton be, and all was light
This filthy simile, this beastly line Quite turns my stomach
P. So does flattery mine
A girl who knew all Dante once
For a moment she rested against me Like a swallow half blown to the wall
Die early and avoid the fate
To knock, that a Blunt should open
A burnt match skating in a urinal
That scalds me now-that scalds me now!
Thou last great prophet of tautology
The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more
The wanton troopers riding by
Oh thou Dalhousie, the great God of War Lieutenant-Colonel to the Earl of Mar
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow, Through Eden took thir solitarie way.
Light fighting for speed
Now my old bawd is dead
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.