Category Archives: s

Song Oh Eurydice your beauty made me weakly turn and now you are lost i mourn And yet our love is strong Oh Orpheus how your love made you weak in turn i must like you lose and mourn And … Continue reading →

Song of The Sirens (1). Where is an end to the suffering of man From the Golden Towers the horizon is but the deserts of the poor From the eternal height of the mountains the sheer cliffs of fall Shall … Continue reading →

On Summer’s First Will and Testament I am the extra measure of the usual song the strung between houses the meaningless wrong the pleasure of heat and the darkness of days the seeming and breathing the beat and the haze … Continue reading →

On Standing for A Considerable Time In A West LondonPost-Office to Buy Stamps. The Winter is a crowded Place Of packages and queues We are the feet upon the platform All the many types of shoe As the folk from … Continue reading →