I. So far as our story approaches the end, Which do you pity the most of us three? – My friend, or…

The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But…

I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have…

I Around me the images of thirty years; An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side; Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,…

We sat together at one summer’s end, That beautiful mild woman, your close friend, And you and I, and talked of poetry….

An Old Story I It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad: The house-roofs seemed…