1915 6.88 29.iii.25 haunted by the living   how they ache into day and sometimes lost for conversation just as we imagine ...

  1914 6.87 28.iii.25 among these trees to which I belong     eyes up, afoot where I’m possessed   making as all are  ...

  1913 6.86 27.iii.25 poem at the end of your head   I am a small potato death is coming fast     the day before there w...

  1912 6.85 26.iii.25 people of the dream   just like me   lions on top of the cage have to be getting some kip   the everyday type let’s sa...

  1911 6.84 25.iii.25 drinking in for wise surprise   strange time of year   fresh out of seasons   a day to make and un...

  1910 6.83 24.iii.25 there’s the art of not being who you are for the sudden gust   without which not here to tell how it cha...