Sometimes I Watch You, Mark Your Brooding Eyes
Sometimes I watch you, mark your brooding eyes,
Your grave brow over-weighted with deep thought,
Your mouth's straight line — details of such a sort
That all aloofness in your aspect lies.
And yet when in the dark down from above
You swoop like a great bird or God himself
To kiss, your lips have curves. What changeling elf
Is that soft mouth of passionate close love?
This Year I Have Seen Autumn With New Eyes
This year I have seen autumn with new eyes,
Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of mysteries
In the slow ripening of the town-bred trees;
Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands to the skies;
And silver beech turned gold now winter's near;
And elm, whose leaves like little suns appear
Scattering light — all, all have made me wise
And writ me lectures in earth's loveliness,
Whether they laugh through the grey morning mist,
Or by the loving sun at noon are kissed
Or seek at night the high-swung lamp's caress.
Does autumn such a novel splendour wear
Simply because my love has yellow hair?
