Soul o' thy chirpin' melodies,
Ink o' thy timid symphonies,
Collects me, t'se calmeth tranquilities,
Requiem t'en pierceth my heart,
Blameth me, she, consumed h've I,
The light, b'low the gallow t'at lie,
Blameth me, she, stolen h've I,
The sound, droppeth o'er her lip,
Enigmatic melancholy, me,
Serenely, thou, me h've dippeth,
Solemn agony, fragnance o' thee,
Silent solace, dream o' me,
L'ft shadows o' my licketh be,
Eternal soul, weepeth un'r thy tree,
Why? Trappeth my soul thou,
Why? Not it flow an' fly free,
Bitter wine t'en, show color o' thee.

i love also
some golden light
pierceth and burning
the earth
who lays
in tremendous sighs o
                                                         Du
                   f                                      sT.

A GREAT HURT

your death hath done me a great hurt
the sharp blade of absence hath
pierceth my heart

Death speaks in italics
and an odd old fashioned diction
that's catching

all this hath & hath not
you present only
by your absence

day after day I have to live
your death...
...hath done me a great hurt

A GREAT HURT

your death hath done me a great hurt
the sharp blade of absence hath
pierceth my heart

Death speaks in italics
and an odd old fashioned diction
that's catching

all this hath & hath not
you present only
by your absence

day after day I have to live
your death...
...hath done me a great hurt

*

THE ORDER OF THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD.

I was remembering fragments out of this as by the waters of the Liffey I sat down and wept.

"MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life we are in death. . .

Thou knowest, LORD, the secrets of our hearts. . .

FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God. . .

I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write. . ."