Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone… When hours were long and days suff… Wide-eyed delights and pleasures u… By shortening moments, when no gau… Of undone duties, modern heritage,

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

Pale, with the blue of high zenith… In smooth, running patterns, a sof… Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders… Where is she, the woman who wore i… A languor, fire-shotted, runs thro…

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.

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…

High up in the apple tree climbing… With the sky above me, the earth b… Each branch is the step of a wonde… Which leads to the town I see shi… Climbing, climbing, higher and hig…

Must all of worth be travailled fo… Life’s brightest stars rise from a… Must years go by in sad uncertaint… Leaving us doubting whose the conq… Are we or Fate the victors? Time…

A face seen passing in a crowded s… A voice heard singing music, large… And from that moment life is chang… Become of more heroic temper, meet To freely ask and give, a man comp…

Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,

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…

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…

When I have baked white cakes And grated green almonds to spread… When I have picked the green crow… And piled them, cone-pointed, in a… When I have smoothed the seam of…

Dearest, forgive that with my clum… I broke and bruised your rose. I hardly could suppose It were a thing so fragile that my… Could kill it, thus.

Beneath this sod lie the remains Of one who died of growing pains.

You want to know what’s the matter… My! ain’t men blinder’n moles? It ain’t nothin’ new, be sure o’ t… Why, ef you’d had eyes you’d ha’ s… Me changin’ under your very nose,