New York: John Lane Company, MCMXVII
Printed at The Complete Press, West Norwood
To the unkindest of critics H.G.N.
FOR *** SONG: LET US GO BACK SONG: MY SPIRIT LIKE A
SHEPHERD BOY CONVALESCENCE TO KNOLE DISILLUSION THE
BANQUET MCMXVIII A CREED TO A POET NOMADS THE GARDEN
THE DANCING ELF CONSTANTINOPLE: DHJI-HAN-GHIR
LEBLEBIDJI THE MUEZZIN THE GREEK HAN YANGHIN VAR
MORNING IN CONSTANTINOPLE RETOUR EN SONGE
CONSTANTINOPLE, MARCH MCMXV RESOLUTION
NO eyes shall see the poems that I write
For you; not even
yours; but after long
Forgetful years have passed on our
delight
Some hand may chance upon a dusty song
Of those fond days when every spoken word
Was sweet, and
all the fleeting things unspoken
Yet sweeter, and the music half
unheard
Murmured through forests as a charm unbroken.
It is the plain and ordinary page
Of two who loved, sole-
spirited and clear.
Will you, O stranger of another age,
Not
grant a human and compassionate tear
To us, who each the other
held so dear?
A single tear fraternal, sadly shed,
Since that
which was so living, is so dead.
