Poor foolish monarch, vacillating,… Decaying victim of a race of kings… Swift Destiny shook out her purpl… And caught him in their shadow; no… Could furtive plotting smear anoth…

Wild little bird, who chose thee f… To put upon the cover of this book… Who heard thee singing in the dist… The vague, far greenness of the en… When the damp freshness of the mor…

I learnt to write to you in happie… And every letter was a piece I ch… From off my heart, a fragment newl… From the mosaic of life; its blues… Its throbbing reds, I gave to ear…

A little garden on a bleak hillsid… Where deep the heavy, dazzling mou… Lies far into the spring. The sun… Is scarcely able to melt patches w… About the single rose bush. All d…

The wind is singing through the tr… A deep-voiced song of rushing cade… And crashing intervals. No summer… Is this, though hot July is at it… Gone is her gentler music; with de…

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…

Slipping softly through the sky Little horned, happy moon, Can you hear me up so high? Will you come down soon? On my nursery window-sill

Wax-white— Floor, ceiling, walls. Ivory shadows Over the pavement Polished to cream surfaces

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in ...

A Minstrel stands on a marble sta… Blown by the bright wind, debonair… Below lies the sea, a sapphire flo… Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless and wan,

Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard… Thou herald of rich Summer’s myri… The climbing sun with new recovere… Does warm thee into being, through… Of rich, brown earth he woos thee,…

Alone, I whet my soul against the… Unwrinkled sky, with its long stre… I polish it with sunlight and pale… And damascene it with young blowin… Into the handle of my life I set

Why do the lilies goggle their ton… When I pluck them; And writhe and twist, And strangle themselves against my… So that I can hardly weave the ga…

Naughty little speckled trout, Can’t I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day? Do you pull the Naiads’ hair

In the brown water, Thick and silver-sheened in the su… Liquid and cool in the shade of th… A pike dozed. Lost among the shadows of stems