Lamps and Lanterns

When I had sight, great glamour was
In myriad lamps of coloured glass:
Old lamps for new I never sold;
For old were new, and new were old.
And Chinese lanterns, paper globes,
Were Dragon Gods in tissue robes
That stood on air with squat, round shoon,
Beneath the thin, receded Moon.

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Stranded

Dusk gathers. On the seaward hedge
The wild hops, hanging bright,
Gleam as a foam-spray flung on sedge
From a sea of golden light.
A ship lies heavy on the sands
Above the warped, wan tide,
Whose waves thrust ineffectual hands
Beneath its murmuring side.
They cannot lift the monstrous hulk,
Nor break the ghostly spell;
The ship lies dreaming, all her bulk
Racked on a shoal of hell.
I hear the sullen timbers creak,
With echoings deep and numb;
No other sound: nor groan nor shriek;
For agony is dumb!
But at the seams, in every crack,
A beaded sweat appears:
The soul that's stretched on such a rack
Can shed no other tears!

Contents / Contents, p. 4