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

The thrush that, yet alone, pipes… Knows she will come in time to bui… Knows she’ll be she his tiny soul… ’Tis love-time at the hawthorn blo… And the new flower-cups bare their…

THE rose said ‘Let but this long… And I shall feel my sweetness in… And pour its fullness into life at… But when the rain was done, But when dawn sparkled through unc…

A SUNNY glade below the bridge; Clear shadows branching through a… A hillock purple to the ridge With velvet thyme; and the far gle… Of white clouds in a dream,

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…

The violet in the wood, that’s swe… Is longer sweet than roses of red… Set me sweet violets along my way, And bid the red rose flower, but n… Ah violet, ah rose, why not the tw…

‘AND when came I to this town?’… A question asked for the asking’s… Answered merely an answer to make, As stranger to stranger may; Answered enough with ‘Twas yester…

SOME quick kind tears, some easy… And then ’tis past. ’Twas sad; yet sadness has its mor… Blue skies succeed skies overcast: Why should grief last?

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…

’Tis hard that the full summer of… Is but the turn where winter’s sig… That to have reached the best is l… That final loss bears date from ha… So some proud vessel in a narrow s…

‘I AM Joy,’ she said; but her vo… Too low for laughter; ‘I am Love ’; but her eyes lacked… And the tear that springs after; ‘I am Life’; but she seemed too c…

“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…

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…

Dead is he? Yes, our stranger gue… said it by noonday, when it seemed… most natural and so indifferent as if the tale ran that a while ag… there died a man I talked with a c…

’Tis men who say that through all… The woman’s love, wife’s, mother’s… And breathes the sweeter and will… For winds that tear it, and the so… So in a thousand voices has the st…