The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand, Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;…

I Swear by what the sages spoke Round the Mareotic Lake That the Witch of Atlas knew, Spoke and set the cocks…

What need you, being come to sense, But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer…

The bees build in the crevices Of loosening masonry, and there The mother birds bring grubs and flies. My wall is loosening;…

Pythagoras planned it. Why did the people stare? His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move In marble or in bronze,…