ONCE, in the sultry heat of mids… An Emperor caused the miniature m… To be covered with white silk, That so crowned, They might cool his eyes

Cloud-topped and splendid, dominat… The little lesser hills which comp… Thou standest, bright with April’… Yet holding Winter in some shaded… Of stern, steep rock; and startled…

A music-stand of crimson lacquer,… In some fast clipper-ship from Ch… With bossed and carven flowers and… The slender shaft all twined about… With vine leaves and young twisted…

You are beautiful and faded Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.

You—you— Your shadow is sunlight on a plate… Your footsteps, the seeding-place… Your hands moving, a chime of bell… The movement of your hands is the…

I own a solace shut within my hear… A garden full of many a quaint del… And warm with drowsy, poppied suns… Flaming with lilies out of whose c… Shining things

The neighbour sits in his window a… From my bed I can hear him, And the round notes flutter and ta… And hit against each other, Blurring to unexpected chords.

Swept, clean, and still, across th… From some unshuttered casement, hi… The level sunshine slants, its gre… Quenching the little lamp which pa… Flickering, unreplenished, at the…

Paul Jannes was working very late… For this watch must be done by eig… To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly be vexed. Of all His customers the old prelate

I do not care to talk to you altho… Your speech evokes a thousand symp… And all my being’s silent harmonie… Wake trembling into music. When y… It is as if some sudden, dreadful…

Good ev’nin’, Mis’ Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Goo… Yes, it’s all over. All my things is packed An’ every last one o’ them boxes

Slowly, without force, the rain dr… on the carved head of Saint John,… over his stone cloak. It splashes… and falls from it in turmoil on th… Where are the people, and why does…

Be not angry with me that I bear Your colours everywhere, All through each crowded street, And meet The wonder-light in every eye,

I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span… They weave like a shuttle between… And slide discreetly through hidde… They are canopied like a Persian…

My cup is empty to-night, Cold and dry are its sides, Chilled by the wind from the open… Empty and void, it sparkles white… The room is filled with the strang…