and deaf use the soul's joys as refuse, heart's peace as
manure,
Reared whence, next June's rose shall bloom where our moons rose last
year, just as pure:
Moons' ends match roses' ends: men by beasts' noses' ends mete sin's
stink's cure.

VI

Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt--flies
caught in time's mesh!
Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and
stews flesh;
Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them
afresh.

VII

Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just shifts
its tune;
As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon;
Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon!

II

BY THE CLIFF

I

Is it daytime (guess),
You that feed my soul
To excess
With that light in those eyes
And those curls drawn like a scroll
In that round grave guise?
No or yes?

II

Oh, the end, I'd say!
Such a foolish thing
(Pure girls' play!)
As a mere mute heart,
Was it worth a kiss, a ring,
This? for two must part--
Not to-day.

III

Look, the whole sand crawls,
Hums, a heaving hive,
Scrapes and scrawls--
Such a buzz and burst!
Here just one thing's not alive,
One that was at first--
But life palls.

IV

Yes, my heart, I know,
Just my heart's stone dead--
Yes, just so.
Sick with heat, those worms
Drop down scorched and overfed--
No more need of germs!
Let them go.

V

Yes, but you now, look,
You, the rouged stage female
With a crook,
Chalked Arcadian sham,
You that made my soul's sleep's dream ail--
Your soul fit to damn?
Shut the book.

III

ON THE SANDS

I

There was nothing at all in the case (conceive)
But love; being love, it was not (understand)
Such a thing as the years let fall (believe)
Like the rope's coil dropt from a fisherman's hand
When the boat's hauled up--"by your leave!"

II

So--well! How that crab writhes--leg after leg
Drawn, as a worm draws ring upon ring
Gradually, not gladly! Chicken or egg,
Is it more than the ransom (say) of a king
(Take my meaning at least) that I beg?

III

Not so! You were ready to learn, I think,
What the world said! "He loves you too well (suppose)
For such leanings! These poets, their love's mere ink--
Like a flower, their flame flashes--a rosebud, blows--
Then it all dr