My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears… Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true lo…

Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…

Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.

A laggard in the rear of time’s sw… And one who loiters on an aimless… Through lands he knows not; lured… In secret paths where silence hold… And rust ascending wings. Roads m…

Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,

Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.

(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.

‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’

Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!

O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curts… In rose-pale, fading blue of twili… See, the new moon’s thin crescent… Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring…

Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.

JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?

Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light?