The Listeners - by
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
/ Knocking on the moonlit door;
/ And his horse in…
transience
Happiness - by
I’ve made my own Museum of / Happiness, which isn’t built of brick / or stone or wood…
The Late Swallow - by
Leave, leave your well-loved nest,
/ Late swallow, and fly away.
/ Here is no rest
/ For hollowing heart and wearying wing.
/ Your comrades all have…
For Refuge - by
Use no names. Roads
/ have been whited out,
/ redacted.
John o’ Lorn - by
My plaid is on my shoulder and my boat is on the shore,
/ And it’s all bye…
The Traveller Has Regrets - by
The traveller has regrets
/ For the receding shore
/ That with its many nets
/ Has caught, not to restore,
/ The white lights…
A Cairn - by
As by barren trackway
/ on a mountain crest
/ with view of scree and corrie,
/ ridge and col,
/ a traveller might pause,
/ take bearings, cast
/ in…
The Three - by
In the depth of winter
/ In the dark of night
/ There was only one house,
/ Only one light.
/
/ I walked down the…
Blossom - by
There’s this life and no hereafter –
/ I’m sure of that
/ but still…
Logos - by
She walks on the charred ground, wings of smoke
/ from the bones of her home rising.
/
/ ‘Here was, there used to be,…
The Wild Swans at Coole - by
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
/ The woodland paths are dry,
/ Under the October twilight the water …
The Song of Wandering Aengus - by
I went out to the hazel wood, / Because a fire was in my head, / And cut and peeled…