Works

O pale green sea,
With long, pale, purple clouds above
What lies in me like weight of love ?
What dies in me
With utter grief, because there comes no sign...

I thought it was the little bed
I slept in long ago;
A straight white curtain at the head,
And two smooth knobs below.
I thought I saw the nursery fire,
And in a chair well-known...

Hayrick some do spell thy name,
And thy verse approves the same;
For 'tis like fresh-scented hay,
With country lasses in't at play.