Quarrel in Old Age

(1931)

                  Where had her sweetness gone?

What fanatics invent

In this blind bitter town,

Fantasy of incident

Not worth thinking of,

Put her in a rage.

I had forgiven enough

That had forgiven old age.

All lives that has lived;

So much is certain;

Old sages were not deceived:

Somewhere beyond the curtain

Of distorting days

Lives that lonely thing

That shone before these eyes

Targeted, trod like spring.

                 He  Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

                (1899)

                  Had I the heavens’ embroidered clothes,

                  Enwrought with golden and silver light,

                  The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

                  Of night and light and the half-light,

                  I would spread the clothes under your feet.

                  But I, being poor, have only my dreams,

                  I have spread my dreams under your feet;

                  Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.