To B. T. Dead-tired, dog-tired, as the vivi… Fails and slackens and fades away.… The sky that was so blue before With sudden clouds is shrouded o’e…

Last June I saw your face three t… Three times I touched your hand; Now, as before, May month is o’er… And June is in the land. O many Junes shall come and go,

(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…

Put the sweet thoughts from out… The dreams from out thy breast; No joy for thee—but thou shalt fin… Thy rest All day I could not work for woe,

On Bellosguardo, when the year wa… We wandered, seeking for the daffo… And dark anemone, whose purples fi… The peasant’s plot, between the co… Over the grey, low wall the olive…

The lion remembers the forest, The lion in chains; To the bird that is captive a visi… Of woodland remains. One strains with his strength at t…

What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love

She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings, Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings. Brown nightingale, whose strain

What ails my senses thus to cheat? What is it ails the place, That all the people in the street Should wear one woman’s face? The London trees are dusty-brown

Now, even, I cannot think it true… My friend, that there is no more y… Almost as soon were no more I, Which were, of course, absurdity! Your place is bare, you are not se…

Since that I may not have Love on this side the grave, Let me imagine Love. Since not mine is the bliss Of ‘claspt hands and lips that kis…

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…

Out of town the sky was bright and… Never fog-cloud, lowering, thick,… Nature dons a garb of gayer hue, Out of town. Spotless lay the snow on field and…

It is so long gone by, and yet How clearly now I see it all! The glimmer of your cigarette, The little chamber, narrow and tal… Perseus; your picture in its frame…