Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.

That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof

Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,

The dancers will break footing, from the care

Hush, 九_九_藏_書call no echo up in further proof

Look up and see the casement broken in,

Most gracious singer of high p九*九*藏*書oems ! where

In folds of golden fulness at my door ?

For hand of 九_九_藏_書thine ? and canst thou think and bear

To let thy music drop here unaware

The bats and owlets builders in the roof !

Oread.99csw.comf desolation ! there s a voice within

And dost thou lift this houses latch too poor

My cricket chirps against thy mandolin.