Now here is where I fail to under… And put my question in all reveren… On bended knee with head most lowl… To the All-High, All-Knowing Pr… A girl whose fate had left her wid…

I shall go on the gypsies’ road, The road that has no ending; For the sedge is brown on the lone… The wild geese eastward tending. I shall go as the unfettered wave,

Mo páistin deas, I did not know How cold the winter’s blast could… Into her heart, with what despair Earth drew her bloom and blossom f… How lone a man might come and go

‘Do you hunt alone to-day, O Red… Pray you tell me, do you hunt all… ‘Ay, I am for the chase, little c… And wish no other spearing save my… ‘And whither are you going, O Red…

This Consul Casement—he who heard… Of stricken people—and who in his… To lift the torture load from brok… And shield sad women from eternal… Went through lone, hot, and fevere…

She had hair gold as her father’s… She tripped and sung, Like to a little lamb new-born, So gay, so young. She gathered lone in the long day’…

My Future lay cradled asleep; I kissed the sweet mouth and she s… With a promise of all she should b… Womanhood crowning the child— Her wings that would grow with her…

All on a golden morning the beggar… To gather branch and berry, the ha… And as she went a-singing, a gipsy… Beneath a bower of branches—a grey… ‘Your fortune, pretty lady, I pra…

When summer comes, then you are ne… I feel your phantom presence on my… In every wind the dead year speaks… And every scene springs up to take… ’Twas such a day, as sweet a wind…

Droop all the flowers in my garden… All their fair heads hang low; For rose, their fairest companion, Never again will they know. Bring me no flowers for wearing,

How restless are the dead whose si… In to our lone retreat or solitary… Within the dew-wet wood or sun-enc… We meet them face to face, we hear… How powerful are the dead whose vo…

The starlings they have come to to… With polka dots on their robes of… They sit a crowd on the old plane… And sing this quaint old melody Creak, creak, pipe, pipe, squeak,…

I hear the thrush and blackbird si… And blackbird sing. Their honied voices wake the sleep… The slothful spring, And as each lovely note sighs fort…

How slow creeps time! I hear the… And now late revellers prepare for… A last gay voice rings in a passin… And past my door the anxious foots… The little clocks from hidden plac…

Thou shalt feel no more the wind o… Nor float on the breath of the bre… Thou shalt drowse no more on the b… ‘Neath the lullaby song of the tre… Thou shalt seek no more in the gre…