Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He

It Is Beautiful, The World, And Life Itself. I Am Glad I Have Lived.

You Have Been Mine Before - How Long Ago I May Not Know: But Just When At That Swallow's Soar, Your Neck Turned So, Some Veil Did Fall, - I Knew It All Of Yore.

I Am Not As These Are, The Poet Saithin Youth's Pride, And The Painter, Among Menat Bay, Where Never Pencil Comes Nor Pem

Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back Was Yellow Like Ripe Corn.

I Plucked A Honeysuckle Where The Hedge On High Is Quick With Thorn, And Climbing For The Prize, Was Torn, And Fouled My Feet In Quag-water; And By The Thorns And By The Wind The Blossom That I Took Was Thinn'd, And Yet I Found It Sweet And Fair.