The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,

Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams, dost leapUpon my spirit’s stage. Then Sight and Sound,Then Space and Time, then Language, Mete and Bound,And all familiar Forms that firmly keepMan’s reason in the road, change faces, peepBetwixt the legs and mock the daily round.Yet thou canst more than mock: sometimes my tearsAt midnight break through bounden lids…

What roses make by day and night —Distillments of my clod of miseryInto delight.Soul, could’st thou bare thy breastAs yon red rose, and dare the day,All clean, and large, and calm with velvet rest?Say yea — say yea!Ah, dear my Rose, good-bye;The wind is up; so; drift away.That songs from me as leaves from thee…

‘I saw a sky of stars that rolled in grime.All glory twinkled through some sweat of fight,From each tall chimney of the roaring timeThat shot his fire far up the sooty nightMixt fuels — Labor’s Right and Labor’s Crime —Sent upward throb on throb of scarlet lightTill huge hot blushes in the heavens blentWith golden…

We could not dream but that he had a soul:What virtue breathed from out his bravery!We gazed o’erhead: far down our deepening eyesRained glamours from his green midsummer mass.The worth and sum of all his centuriesSuffused his mighty shadow on the grass.A Presence large, a grave and steadfast FormAmid the leaves’ light play and fantasy,A…

Was’t so with you, O Love and Scorn?Sweet eyes that smiled,Now wet and wild:O Eye and Tear- mother and child.Well: Love and PainBe kinfolks twain;Yet would, Oh would I could Love again.

Which soul were shy, which shyness mightA visible influence be, and rollThrough heaven and earth — ’twere thou, O light!O rhapsody of the wraith of red,O blush but yet in prophecy,O sun-hint that hath overspreadSky, marsh, my soul, and yonder sail.