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…

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…

The east wind blows in the street… The sky is blue, yet the town look… ’Tis the wind of ice, the wind of… Of cold despair and of hot desire, Which chills the flesh to aches an…

They trod the streets and squares… With weary hearts, a little while… When, thin and grey, the melanchol… Clung to the leafless branches ove… Or when the smoke-veiled sky grew…

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…

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

If I were a woman of old, What prayers I would pray for you… My pitiful tribute behold— Not a prayer, but a tear. The pitiless order of things,

I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, and a fancy

How like her! But ’tis she hersel… Comes up the crowded street, How little did I think, the morn, My only love to meet! Whose else that motion and that mi…

Cruel? I think there never was a… More cruel, thro’ all the weary da… This is no dream, my heart kept on… But sober certainty of waking blis… Dreams? O, I know their faces—goo…

O say, thou wild, thou oft deceive… What mean these noisy throbbings i… After thy long, unutterable woe Wouldst thou not rest? Fall’n from Life’s tree the sweet…

A haunted town thou art to me.<… —Andrew Lang To-day in Florence all the air Is soft with spring, with sunlight… In the tall street gay folks are m…

“O love, lean thou thy cheek to mi… And let the tears together flow”— Such was the song you sang to me Once, long ago. Such was the song you sang; and ye…

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…