Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
...
My brain has turned to ash, and yes,
My mouth is dust,
And love is grief, and death is
But the loss of trust;
...
The black-haired girls are graceful, like gazelles,
Their haughty stares would strike a ‘lao wai' blind,
As they cruise on through streets, where rubbish spills,
Ignoring all, the poverty, the slime.
...
The cat and I stare at the room
No-name the cat, the cat and I,
She stares at me, I at the gloom
The house lies still as a vaulted tomb.
...
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
...
He met her under the willow trees
That grew by the valley creek,
He hadn't been able to visit her
For the best part of a week,
...
A sylph is passing my threshold stair,
Drifting her fragrance through the vine,
Promising dreams of a never-could-be
From the loss and the lapse of a former time.
...
They came from a line of fishermen,
Way back, two hundred years,
The sons of a dour old Kentish man,
Who'd braved the First World War;
...
I did but see you once, and that
Upon some distant screen,
You spoke of life and love, and death,
And wickedness, supreme;
...
He knew that there must be something wrong
From the time he brought her home,
His mother had turned her back when he
Announced her as Alice Frome,
...