See! I give myself to you, Beloved!
       My words are little jars
       For you to take and put upon a shelf.
       Their shapes are quaint and beautiful,
       And they have many pleasant colours and lustres
       To recommend them.
       Also the scent from them fills the room
       With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
       When I shall have given you the last one,
       You will have the whole of me,
       But I shall be dead.

Sword Blades and Poppy Seed
sword blades
   The Captured Goddess
   The Precinct. Rochester
   The Cyclists
   Sunshine through a Cobwebbed Window
   A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.
   Astigmatism
   The Coal Picker
   Storm-Racked
   Convalescence
   Patience
   Apology
   A Petition
   A Blockhead
   Stupidity
   Irony
   Happiness
   The Last Quarter of the Moon
   A Tale of Starvation
   The Foreigner
   Absence
   A Gift
   The Bungler
   Fool's Money Bags
   Miscast I
   Miscast II
   Anticipation
   Vintage
   The Tree of Scarlet Berries
   Obligation
   The Taxi
   The Giver of Stars
   The Temple
   Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success
   In Answer to a Request
poppy seed
   The Great Adventure of Max Breuck
   Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris
   After Hearing a Waltz by Bartok
   Clear, with Light, Variable Winds
   The Basket
   In a Castle
   The Book of Hours of Sister Clotilde
   The Exeter Road
   The Shadow
   The Forsaken
   Late September
   The Pike
   The Blue Scarf
   White and Green
   Aubade
   Music
   A Lady
   In a Garden
   A Tulip Garden