I Saw A Tattered Cloak, Drawn About The Face

A Gesture Of Farewell, To The Kiss Of God's Mouth

Kiss The Image In A Stranger's Casket

What Has Become Of Splendour?

Twelve Strokes Have Fallen

And The Faintly Heard Breath

That Argued My Beauty

A Ruined Soul Bewailing

Where The Angels Allow Their Wings Bewilted

To Droop, To Bow To The Bosom Of A Friend

Kiss Me Tenderly, Savage God

My Lips Are Dumb To Speak A Thousand Inane Words

And How Sweet A Toil

All Is Dark, All Is Blackened

All But An Upturned Face