Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand, As epitaph: He chucked up everything And just cleared off, And always the voice will sound Certain you…

Coming up England by a different line For once, early in the cold new year, We stopped, and, watching men with number-plates…

“This was Mr Bleaney’s room. He stayed The whole time he was at the Bodies, till They moved him.” Flowered curtains, thin…

Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant…

Although I can see him still – The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara…

When Earth’s last picture is painted And the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded And the youngest…

Ferrara That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now:…

I I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; ‘Good speed!’ cried the…

I Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you And did you speak to him…