You may go to the devil, my Lady, yourself
and the rest of your species!
I mean it, O desperate damsel, O Lady most
anxious and coy!
I shall retire to my chamber to see that my
clothes are in creases,
For I see by the tilt of your brow the minuteness
of brain you enjoy.
You have set the clear bells of my spirit to
crack in a dissonant jangle.
You are fair in your way, O my Lady, but rather
oppressively sexed.
There is no such fatal mistake as a primitive
facial angle.
Good-bye, O my dispossessed Lady, remember
my name to the next.
LATE
I am very desolate.
I am afraid.
I am alone.
The shadows wait
Till I am laid
Beneath a stone.
I am very desolate.
I can hear feet.
I can see ghosts.
Fear's by the gate,
Death's in the street
By the dark posts.
I am very desolate.
What have I made
Of the dead time?
The night is late.
I am afraid
Of my own rhyme.
WIND OF BLACK NIGHT
I would go where you go,
You sole monarch that I know.
Wind, wind of black night,
I would go with your delight.
Take me by my streaming hair,
Take me where in the air
Planets meet, stars fight.