I SET a lily long ago; I watched it whiten in the sun; I loved it well, I had but one. Then summer-time was done, The wind came and the rain,

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…

LOVE is dying. Why then, let it… Trample it down, that it die more… What is a rose that has lost its b… What is a fruit with its freshness… And where is the worth of the twil…

NOT by her grave: thither I bid… Fresh garlands of the flowers that… And lay them by the headstone, for… My token and remembrance with the… But here, where in the brightening…

A bird and flower upon the tree, Sweet peony and oriole, Each of them a perfect soul, Song and sweetness manifest The bird and flower we love the be…

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…

MILES and miles of here and ther… Our eager river forced its way, Bent to be it knew not where. It had no rest in delay; And for its haste it had no aim;

Joy that’s half too keen, and true… Makes us tears. Oh! the sweetness of the tears! If such joy at hand appears, Snatch it, give thine all for it;

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…

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?

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…

TELL me not of morrows, sweet; All to-day is fair, and ours, Thine and mine; Mar not Now with needing more. Neither speak of yesterdays;

HARK the sky-lark in the cloud, Hark the cricket in the grass, Trilling blitheness clear and loud… Chirping glee to all who pass. Oh, the merry summer lay!

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…

WHAT is it that is dead? Somewhere there is a grave, and so… Cold in the ground, and stirs not… Nor songs that I can make, nor sm… Nor tenderest foolish words that…