So, art thou feahered, art thou flown,
Thou naked thing?—and canst alone
Upon the unsolid summer
Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still.
And all the loveliest
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wi
There it was I saw what I shall never forget
And never retrieve.
Monstrous and beautiful to human
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind
That blows across the sea.
And I shall meet a fisherman
Out of Capri
Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about