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ache awakened BATTLEFIELD Bending BROODING PINES Cabinet canyon's CHILD EYES clouds cold Conrad A1ken cornice dark DESERT Dorothy Pulis Lathrop dreams drew dwindle Earth Triumphant Entrance lights evergreens eyes Follow face you turn FEAR-DREAMS following the paths forget The Ghetto FOUR SEAS COMPANY fragrance freedom furrows greyness heart hillside horizon impulse JIG OF FORSLIN journey kites labyrinth lantern listlessly LITTLE ROSE-BUG Lost the sense love-song lowland madness millions mist MOCKING BIRD monotone moon naked NAVAJO night found nightfall NOCTURNE Painted toys paths that ascend poems Poetry pool quickens quivering rain river road roots sang Seeking shadow at sunset silent singing solitude song soul spirit SPRING BEAUTIES straining sunlight tender THAMES thicket thought tomb TOPMOST BRANCH tree-shadow treeless waste Trees Growing turn To beauty UNQUIET unwritten pages valley The lovers VERNAL VERSE violets waves Wild wilderness Wind close window Withered wonder yearning
Page 109 - THE JIG OF FORSLIN A novel of adventure in verse, based on the Freudian psychology, and containing poetry of unusual power and beauty. "The most extraordinary poem of the
Page 110 - JAPANESE PRINTS Imagist poems written after certain designs of the Uki-oye or Passing World School, with a preface on Japanese poetry.
Page 47 - Home was where night found us. The gypsy spirit Thatched our hearts Against the homeless winds Of the plains— The yawning distances Of the plains! And at nightfall The camp fire Drew the horizon Close around And home was where night found us.
Page 109 - Forslin is not a man, but man . . . the autobiography of
Page 101 - An arrogant oak In midfield, Branching With every impulse. I, Broad-chested, Gigantic— In thought Fusing the immediate With the infinite.
Page 93 - rock bases of humanity, Will you emerge Tame, Tame as out-cropping stones That sun themselves After the storm? Or will you burst forth Volcano-like, Ghastly white with the heat of things, And
Page 88 - trenches. The inevitable spinnings Of fate Have close woven my spirit, That tears and blood May not penetrate— But the meshes open In sleep And let in Fear-dreams For you.
Page 45 - The roads are rough And tangled, And the day is hot. But at nightfall Roads unravel And bend down Into the valley, And turn in At a cooling spring.