The half-shut doors through which we heard that music

In cruel granite, to discloseThe soft things that in hardness lie,So this one, taking up his heart,Which time and change had made a stone,Carved out of it with dolorous art,Laboring yearlong and alone,The thing there hidden—rose, toad, wing?A frog’s hand on a lily pad?Bees in a cobweb?—no such thing!A girl’s head was the thing he…

Saw, graved on a silver tray,The lion; and sunsets were begun.Goya smelt the bull-fight blood.The pupil of the CarmeliteGave his hands to a goldsmith, learnedTo gild an aureole aright.Goya saw the Puzzel’s eyes:Sang in the street (with a guitar)And climbed the balcony; but Keats(Under the halyards) wrote ‘Bright star.’Goya saw the Great Slut pickThe chirping…

To shut out, if she could, this dingy room,The wigs and costumes scattered around the floor,—Yellows and greens in the dark,—she walked againThose nightmare streets which she had walked so often . . .Here, at a certain corner, under an arc-lamp,Blown by a bitter wind, she stopped and lookedIn through the brilliant windows of a…

And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.The purple lights leap…

We have heard the terrible sound of guns,All night long we have lain and watched the calm stars.We cannot sleep, though we are tired,The sound of guns is in our ears,We are growing old and grey,We have forgotten many simple things.Is this you? Is this I?Will the word come to charge today?…All night long, all…

Along high wallsAnd along black streets that glisten as if with rain,The muted city seemsLike one in a restless sleep who lies and dreamsOf vague desires, vague memories, and half-forgotten painAlong dark veins like lights the quick dreams run,Flash, are extinguished, flash again,To mingle and glow at last in the enormous brainAnd die awayAs evening…

Sounds go drowsily up from streets and wharves.The city stirs like one that is half in dream.And the mist flows up by dazzling walls and windows,Where one by one we wake and rise.We gaze at the pale grey lustrous sea a moment,We rub the darkness from our eyes,And face our thousand devious secret mornings ….

You strike a match and stare upon the flame.The tiny firelight leaps in your eyes a momentAnd dies away as silently as it came.This melody, you say, has certain voices—They rise like nereids from a river, singing,Lift white faces, and dive to darkness again.Wherever you go you bear this river with you:A leaf falls, and…

Into the darkness you may lift your lanterns—O, any number—it will still be night.And here are echoing stairs to lead you downwardTo long sonorous halls.And here is spring forever at these windows,With roses on the walls.This is her room. On one side there is music—On one side not a sound.At one step she could move…

In cruel granite, to discloseThe soft things that in hardness lie,So this one, taking up his heart,Which time and change had made a stone,Carved out of it with dolorous art,Laboring yearlong and alone,The thing there hidden—rose, toad, wing?A frog’s hand on a lily pad?Bees in a cobweb?—no such thing!A girl’s head was the thing he…

Is a locked room where an enchanted princessLies sleeping.But sometimes, in that dark house,As if almost from the stars, far away,Sounds whisper in that secret room —Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?And suddenly, from her long sleep,The beautiful princess awakes and dances.Who is she? I do not know.Why does she dance? Do not…

Along high walls;And along black streets that glisten as if with rain,The muted city seemsLike one in a restless sleep, who lies and dreamsOf vague desires, and memories, and half-forgotten pain . . .Along dark veins, like lights the quick dreams run,Flash, are extinguished, flash again,To mingle and glow at last in the enormous brainAnd…