When you, my Dear, are away, away… How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and ni… Starts another year of candle ligh… O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon…

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

Some men there are who find in nat… Their inspiration, hers the sympat… Which spurs them on to any great e… To them the fields and woods are c… And they hold dear communion with…

Stupefy my heart to every day’s mo… Seal up my eyes, I would not look… Chasten my steps to peaceful regul… Bow down my head lest I behold a… Fill my days with work, a thousand…

The vine leaves against the brick… Are rusty and broken. Dead leaves gather under the pine-… The brittle boughs of lilac-bushes Sweep against the stars.

Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,

The path runs straight between the… A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds… Where phlox and marigolds dispute… With tall, red dahlias and the bri… 'T is reckless prodigality which t…

Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up

Oblong, its jutted ends rounding i… The old sunken basin lies with its… An inch below the terrace tiles. Over the stagnant water Slide reflections:

A flickering glimmer through a win… A dim red glare through mud bespat… Cleaving a path between blown wall… Across uneven pavements sunk in sl… To scatter and then quench itself…

He shouts in the sails of the ship… He steals the down from the honeyb… He makes the forest trees rustle a… He twirls my kite till it breaks i… Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,

Softly the water ripples Against the canoe’s curving side, Softly the birch trees rustle Flinging over us branches wide. Softly the moon glints and glisten…

You are ice and fire, The touch of you burns my hands li… You are cold and flame. You are the crimson of amaryllis, The silver of moon-touched magnoli…

Our meeting was like the upward sw… In the blue night. I do not know when it burst; But now I stand gaping, In a glory of falling stars.

Thou dear and well-loved haunt of… How often in some distant gallery, Gained by a little painful spiral… Far from the halls and corridors w… The crowd of casual readers, have…