Le Jardin
The lily’s withered chalice falls
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
The gaudy leonine sunflower
The dead leaves scatter, – hour by hour.
Pale privet-petals white as milk
Like little shreds of crimson silk.
La Mer
A white mist drifts across the shrouds,
Out of a mane of tawny clouds.
The muffled steersman at the wheel
Leap the long rods of polished steel.
The shattered storm has left its trace
Float on the waves like ravelled lace.