Pictures of the Floating World

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Macmillan, 1919 - Poetry - 257 pages
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Page 198 - Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image, nor the likeness of any thing that, is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them...
Page 94 - A DECADE When you came, you were like red wine and honey, And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. Now you are like morning bread, Smooth and pleasant. I hardly taste you at all, for I know your savor; But I am completely nourished. MADONNA OF THE EVENING FLOWERS All day long I have been working, Now I am tired. I call: "Where are you?
Page 46 - The sun shines in on your books, On your scissors and thimble just put down, But you are not there. Suddenly I am lonely: Where are you ? I go about searching. Then I see you, Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur, With a basket of roses on your arm. You are cool, like silver, And you smile. I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes, You tell me that the peonies need spraying, That the columbines have overrun all bounds, That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded. You...
Page 140 - Thick dappled by circles of sunshine and fluttering shade, Your bright, naked body advances, blown over by leaves, Half-quenched in their various green, just a point of you showing, A knee or a thigh, sudden glimpsed, then at once blotted into The filmy and flickering forest, to start out again Triumphant in smooth, supple roundness, edged sharp as white ivory, Cool, perfect, with rose rarely tinting your lips and your breasts, Swelling out from the green in the opulent curves of ripe fruit, And...
Page 84 - Why do the lilies goggle their tongues at me When I pluck them; And writhe and twist, And strangle themselves against my fingers, So that I can hardly weave the garland For your hair? Why do they shriek your name And spit at me When I would cluster them? Must I kill them To make them lie still, And send you a wreathe of lolling corpses To turn putrid and soft On your forehead While you dance?
Page 6 - SUNSHINE The pool is edged with the blade-like leaves of irises. If I throw a stone into the placid water. It suddenly stiffens Into rings and rings Of sharp gold wire.
Page 113 - It plays at ball in odd, blue Chinese gardens, And shakes wrought dice-cups in Pagan temples Amid the broken flutings of white pillars. It dances with purple and yellow crocuses in its hair, And its feet shine as they flutter over drenched grasses. How light and laughing my mind is, When all...
Page 58 - Bullion MY thoughts Chink against my ribs And roll about like silver hail-stones. I should like to spill them out, And pour them, all shining, Over you. But my heart is shut upon them And holds them straitly. Come, You! and open my heart; That my thoughts torment me no longer, But glitter in your hair.

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