Shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

“Nothing is so beautiful as Spring-When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely …”

“NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;Not untwist—slack th…”

“InversnaidThis darksome burn, horseback brown, His rollrock highroad roaring do…”

“Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresset…”