#English
Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees, That hardly sway before a breeze As soft as summer: summer’s loss Seems little, dear! on days like t…
Calm, sad, secure; behind high con… These watch the sacred lamp, these… And it is one with them when eveni… And one with them the cold return… These heed not time; their nights…
COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL Into the lonely park all frozen fa… Awhile ago there were two forms wh… Lo, are their lips fallen and thei… Hardly shall a man hear the words…
They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their… In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave,
Sleep on, dear, now The last sleep and the best, And on thy brow, And on thy quiet breast Violets I throw.
Beyond the need of weeping, Beyond the reach of hands, May she be quietly sleeping, In what dim nebulous lands? Ah, she who understands!
Here, where the breath of the scen… sun-stained air, On a steep hill-side, on a grassy… and heard Only the faint breeze pass in a wh…
Wine and woman and song, Three things garnish our way: Yet is day over long. Lest we do our youth wrong, Gather them while we may:
I the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird.
‘A little, _passionately, not at a… She casts the snowy petals on the… And what care we how many petals f… Nay, wherefore seek the seasons to… It is but playing, and she will no…
When I am old, And sadly steal apart, Into the dark and cold, Friend of my heart! Remember, if you can,
Love’s aftermath! I think the tim… That we must gather in, alone, apa… The saddest crop of all the crops… Love’s aftermath. Ah, sweet,—sweet yesterday, the te…
Love wine and beauty and the sprin… While wine is red and spring is he… And through the almond blossoms ri… The dove-like voices of thy Dear. Love wine and spring and beauty wh…
By the sad waters of separation Where we have wandered by divers w… I have but the shadow and imitatio… Of the old memorial days. In music I have no consolation,
A song of the setting sun! The sky in the west is red, And the day is all but done: While yonder up overhead, All too soon,