the trees grew without abandonment

with faded finery, with powder and paint

alarming sympathy

in fear of ridicule

who chance threw in his path

be circumscribed


unwinking, straight eyes

whose face was concealed

a frivolous curiosity

at length everything was ready

more gray than black

perfumes, the mirrors, the pentagrams


hideous tenderness

round crab eyes

the only light in the room came from the fire


she forgot everything

woven with skillful intricacy

the day was sultry

go to Versailles

muted words

one of two

nearly pain

lips like living fire

quivering still

all manner of charming nonsense

unalterable belief

hopeless woe