Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back

The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph, A Delight, A Madness!

Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He It Was (the Aged Legends Say) Who First Taught Art To Fold Her Hands And Pray.

I Have Been Here Before, But When Or How I Cannot Tell: I Know The Grass Beyond The Door, The Sweet Keen Smell, The Sighing Sound, The Lights Around The Shore. ... You Have Been Mine Before, How Long Ago I May Not Know: But Just When At That Swallow's Soar Your Neck Turned So, Some Veil Did Fall - I Knew It All Of Yore. Has This Been Thus Before? And Shall Not Thus Time's Eddying Flight Still With Our Lives Our Love Restore In Death's Despite, And Day And Night Yield One Delight Once More

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

I Plucked A Honeysuckle Where The Hedge On High Is Quick With Thorn, And Climbing For The Prize, Was Torn, And Fouled My Feet In Quag-water; And By The Thorns And By The Wind The Blossom That I Took Was Thinn'd, And Yet I Found It Sweet And Fair.