Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan, The moon.
Why do You thus devise Evil against her?' 'For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.
Look up . . .From bleakening hillsBlows down the light, first breathOf wintry wind . . . look up, and scentThe snow!
Sea-foam And coral! Oh, I'll Climb the great pasture rocks And dream me mermaid in the sun's Gold flood.
My object to venture the suggestion that an important application of phonetics to metrical problems lies in the study of phonetic word-structure.
Sun and wind and beat of sea,
Great lands stretching endlessly...
Where be bonds to bind the free?
All the world was made for me!
Listen ... With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break free from the trees And fall.
These be Three silent things: The Falling snow. . . the hour Before the dawn. . . the mouth of one Just dead.
The oldOld winds that blewWhen chaos was, what doThey tell the clattered trees that IShould weep?
I knowNot these my handsAnd yet I think there wasA woman like me once had handsLike these.