Triad
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of one Just dead.
This poem is in the public domain.
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November Night
Listen …
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
1915
The Sun-Dial
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
1915
Saying of Il Haboul
Guardian of the Treasure of Solomon
And Keeper of the Prophet’s Armour
My tent
A vapour that
The wind dispels and but
As dust before the wind am I
Myself.
1915