I may not weep, not weep, and he i… A weary, weary weight of tears uns… Through the long day in my sad hea… The horrid sun with all unpitying… Shines down into the dreary weavin…

I will be glad because it is the… I will forget the winter in my hea… Dead hopes and withered promise; a… A little joy from life ere life de… For spendthrift youth with passion…

UP those Museum steps you came, And straightway all my blood was f… O Lallie, Lallie! The world (I had been feeling low… In one short moment’s space did gr…

The sky is silver-grey; the long Slow waves caress the shore.- On such a day as this I have been… Who shall be glad no more.

"Mein Herz, mein Herz ist trau… Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai" There’s May amid the meadows, There’s May amid the trees; Her May-time note the cuckoo

“What should such fellows as I do… Crawling between earth and heaven?… Here is the phial; here I turn th… Sharp in the lock. Click!—there’s… This is the third time; there is l…

Not in the street and not in the s… The street and square where you we… With shuttered casement your house… Men hush their voice when they spe… I, too, can play at the vain prete…

"Am Kreuzweg wird begraben Wer selber brachte sich um." When first the world grew dark to… I call’d on God, yet came not he. Whereon, as wearier wax’d my lot,

He comes; I hear him up the stree… Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, His hoarse note scares the eventid… Of slaughter, theft, and suicide

(From Lenau.) So late, and yet a nightingale? Long since have dropp’d the blosso… The summer fields are ripening, And yet a sound of spring?

The mountains in fantastic lines Sweep, blue-white, to the sky, whi… Blue as blue gems; athwart the pin… The lake gleams blue. We three were here, three years go…

Dead! all’s done with! —R. Browning. These blossoms that I bring, This song that here I sing, These tears that now I shed,

A True Incident of Pre-Revolu… Now the lovely autumn morning brea… In the crowned castle courtyard th… And the ladies on the terrace smil… To the huntsmen disappearing down…

(To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in… A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon… And all the eager people thronging… To that great hall, drawn by the m…