No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!

With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.

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

These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.

Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?

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

Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I

Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…

I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…

The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!

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…

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?

Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.

But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!

All day, all day I brush My golden strands of hair; All day I wait and wait.. Ah, who is there? Who calls? Who calls? The gold