Spring
I walk and
To hear the birds sing,
Without you my
How can there be Spring
I walk and
To hear the birds sing,
Without you my
How can there be Spring
I killed them, but they would not die
Yea
all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep,
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight
Moses, from whose loins I sprung, Lit by a lamp in his blood Ten immutable rules, a moon For mutable lampless men
The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy, With the same heaving blood, Keep tide to the moon of Moses
Then why do they sneer at me...
Grotesque and queerly
Contortionists to
The sleepy soul to a sleep,
We lie all sorts of
Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows Like waifs their spirits grope For the pools of Hebron again— For Lebanon's summer slope
They leave these b...