The tarantula rattling at the lily’s foot Across the feet of the dead, laid in white sand Near the coral beach—nor zigzag fiddle crabs Side-stilting from the path (that shift, subvert And anagrammatize your name)—No, nothing here Below the palsy t...
O God,
O Venus,
O Mercury, patron of thieves, Give me in due time,
I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop, With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragment cavendish and the shag, And the bright Vir...
I
LL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,