THE ATTACK ON THE “PLAY BOY”

Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met Round about Hell’s gate, to stare At great Juan riding by, And like these to rail and sweat, Maddened by that sinewy thigh.

A LYRIC FROM AN UNPUBLISHED PLAY

“Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.” “O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise, And yet not cold.” “I would but find what’s there to find, Love or deceit.” “It was the mask engaged your mind, And after set your heart to beat, Not what’s behind.” “But lest you are my enemy, I must enquire.” “O no, my dear, let all that be, What matter, so there is but fire In you, in me?”

UPON A HOUSE SHAKEN BY THE LAND AGITATION

How should the world be luckier if this house, Where passion and precision have been one Time out of mind, became too ruinous To breed the lidless eye that loves the sun? And the sweet laughing eagle thoughts that grow Where wings have memory of wings, and all That comes of the best knit to the best? Although Mean roof-trees were the sturdier for its fall, How should their luck run high enough to reach The gifts that govern men, and after these To gradual Time’s last gift, a written speech Wrought of high laughter, loveliness and ease?

AT THE ABBEY THEATRE