The same to me are sombre days and… Though joyous dawns the rosy morn,… Because my dearest love is gone aw… Within my heart is melancholy nigh… My heart beats low in loneliness,…

He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease

Carlyle combined the lit’ry life With throwing teacups at his wife, Remarking, rather testily, “Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!”

“Then we will have tonight!” we sa… “Tomorrow– may we not be dead?” The morrow touched our eyes, and f… Us walking firm above the ground, Our pulses quick, our blood alight…

Upon the work of Walter Landor I am unfit to write with candor. If you can read it, well and good; But as for me, I never could.

Death’s the lover that I’d be tak… Wild and fickle and fierce is he. Small’s his care if my heart be br… Gay young Death would have none o… Hear them clack of my haste to gre…

God’s acre was her garden-spot, sh… She sat there often, of the Summe… Little and slim and sweet, among t… Her hair a fable in the leveled ra… She turned the fading wreath, the…

A string of shiny days we had, A spotless sky, a yellow sun; And neither you nor I was sad When that was through and done. But when, one day, a boy comes by

And let her loves, when she is dea… Write this above her bones: “No more she lives to give us brea… Who asked her only stones.”

The sun’s gone dim, and The moon’s turned black; For I loved him, and He didn’t love back.

Too long and quickly have I lived… The woe that stretches me shall ne… Too often seen the end of endless… To swear that peace no more shall… I know, I know– again the shrivel…

In April, in April, My one love came along, And I ran the slope of my high hi… To follow a thread of song. His eyes were hard as porphyry

I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass,