Seeds with wings, between earth an… Fluttering, flying; Seeds of a lily with blood-red cor… Breathing of myrrh and of giroflor… Where winds drop them there must t…

A week ago; only a little week: it seems so much much longer, thou… is every morning still my yesterda… as all my life 'twill be my yester… for all my life is morrow to my lo…

’TWAS yesterday; ’twas long ago: And for this flaunting grimy stree… And for this crowding to and fro, And thud and roar of wheels and fe… Were elm-trees and the linnet’s tr…

OH God, where hast thou hidden T… Where is the road to God? Lo, we, that should be old, have l… We are not manly ripe; we have not… Of all the wisdom that a world can…

ONCE a sea-nymph loved a boy: He and she they loved so well. ‘Oh the foamy billow’s joy! Oh the rippling in the sun! Oh the round waves, one by one, S…

You love me, only me. Do I not kn… If I were gone your life would be… Than his who, hungering on a rocky… Shipwrecked, alone, observes the e… Of hopeless ocean widening forth b…

BLITHE summer blossom, born too… Wilt make my desert garden fair? Lo Winter’s hand is on the gate, His breath is in the curdling air. Still yesterweek, but yesterweek,

‘OH voice of summer winds among t… What soft news art thou bringing t… Dost thou come whispering of hushe… Languid in sunlight, while the dro… Couch placidly at rest, and from t…

The brook leaps riotous with its l… That freshets from the mountain ra… Beats at the boulders in its hinde… And fills the valley with its triu… The strong unthirsty tarn sunk in…

Alas, I thought this forest must… And would not change because of my… I thought the growing things were… And not a mock; I thought at leas… Were honest and would keep that ha…

Good friend, be patient: goes the… well, can you groove it straight w… and, sigh or scold, and, argue or… what have you done but waste your… on impotent fool’s battles with th…

TELL thee truth, sweet; no. Truth is cross and sad and cold: Lies are pitiful and kind, Honey-soft as Love’s own tongue: Let me, love, lie so.

A YOUNG fair girl among her flo… And, as to blossoms born in May, Her morrows still brought sunnier… Than made up sunny yesterday. She did but wait: ‘Hope is so swe…

“IS she sitting in the meadow Where the brook leaps to the mill, Leaning low against the poplar, Dreamily and still? Now, with joined hands, grave, now…

WINGED voice to tell the skies… Dear earth-born lark, sing on, sin… Sing into heaven that she may hear ;Sing what thou wilt, so she but k… Thine ecstasy of summer mirth