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And all the tenderness he willed before

Came then unwanted and with much to spare.

Love could be held a little dressed as hate

But turned to fondness must be quite cast out.

Reminiscence

When I was happy alone, too young for love

Or to be loved in any but a way

Cloudless and gentle, I would find the day

Long as I wished its length or web to weave.

I did not know or could not know enough

To fret at thought or even try to whittle

A pattern from the shapeless stony stuff

That now confuses since I’ve grown too subtle.

I used the senses, did not seek to find

Something they could not touch, made numb with fear;

I felt the glittering landscape in the mind

And O was happy not to have it clear.

Fantasy

Tree without a leaf I stand

Bird unfeathered cannot fly

I a beggar weep and cry

Not for coins but for a hand

To beg with. All my leaves are down

Feathers flown and hand wrenched off

Bird and tree and beggar grown

Nothing on account of love.

Jealousy

She spoke the word at last and gave him cause

To fatten on the treachery and grow jealous,

The upland flocks grew starved and thinned:

     Their shepherds scarce could feed the lambs

Whose milkless mothers butted them,

     Or who were orphaned of their dams.

The lambs athirst for mother’s milk

     Filled all the place with piteous sounds:

Their mothers’ bones made white for miles

     The pastureless wet pasture grounds.

Day after day, night after night,

     From lamb to lamb the shepherds went,

With teapots for the bleating mouths,

     Instead of nature’s nourishment.

The little shivering gaping things

     Soon knew the step that brought them aid,

And fondled the protecting hand,

     And rubbed it with a woolly head.

Then as the days waxed on to weeks,

     It was a pretty sight to see

These lambs with frisky heads and tails

     Skipping and leaping on the lea,

Bleating in tender trustful tones,

     Resting on rocky crag or mound,

And following the beloved feet