Seven Songs

thy fingers make early flowers 
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smothness which
sings, saying 
(though love be a day)
do not fear, we will go amaying.

thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
always
thy moist eyes at kisses are playing,
whose strangeness much
says; singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?

to be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death, thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing, it shall not stop kissing).

Doll's boy's asleep
 [ ... ]

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn. 

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before. 

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer. 

Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before. 

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn. 

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before. 

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer. 

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrow sang before. 

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down
into the silver dawn. 

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before. 

Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer. 

Four tell stags at a green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before. 

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn. 

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.

Where’s Madge then,
Madge and her men?
buried with
Alice in her hair,
(but if you ask the rain
he’ll not tell where.)

beauty makes terms
with time and his worms,
when loveliness
says sweetly Yes
to wind and cold;
and how much earth
is Madge worth?
Inquire of the flower that sways in the autumn
she will never guess.
but i know

when life is quite through with
and leaves say alas,
much is to do
for the swallow,that closes
a flight in the blue;

when love's had his tears out,
perhaps shall pass
a million years
(while a bee dozes
on the poppies,the dears;

when all's done and said,and
under the grass
lies her head 
by oaks and roses
deliberated.)

cruelly,love
walk the autumn long;
the last flower in whose hair,
thy lips are cold with songs

for which is
first to wither,to pass?
shallowness of sunlight
falls and,cruelly,
across the grass
Comes the 
moon

love,walk the
autumn
love,for the last
flower in the hair withers;
thy hair is acold with 
dreams,
love thou art frail

—walk the longness of autumn
smile dustily to the people,
for winter
who crookedly care.

when god lets my body be 
  
From each brave eye shall sprout a tree 
fruit that dangles therefrom 
  
the purpled world will dance upon 
Between my lips which did sing 
  
a rose shall beget the spring 
that maidens whom passion wastes 
  
will lay between their little breasts 
My strong fingers beneath the snow 
  
Into strenuous birds shall go 
my love walking in the grass 
  
their wings will touch with her face 
and all the while shall my heart be 
  
With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea