Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphr… Long have I served thine altars,… Let me have peace of thee, truce o… Heart of my heart have I offered… Yielding my life for the love of t…

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…

‘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…

Who is this mortal Who ventures to-night To woo an immortal, Cold, cold the moon’s light For sleep at this portal,

Sometimes, to solace my sad heart,… Though late it be, though lily-tim… Though all the summer skies be ove… Haply I will go down to her, some… And cast my rests of life before h…

When I am old, And sadly steal apart, Into the dark and cold, Friend of my heart! Remember, if you can,

The wisdom of the world said unto… ‘_Go forth and run, the race is to… Perchance some honour tarrieth for… ‘As tarrieth,’ I said, ‘for sure,… For I had pondered on a rune of r…

By the pale marge of Acheron, Me thinks we shall pass restfully, Beyond the scope of any sun. There all men hie them one by one, Far from the stress of earth and s…

They are not long, the weeping and… Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us… We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of win…

Dew on her robe and on her tangled… Twin dewdrops for her eyes; behold… With dainty step brushing the youn… The while she trills some high, fa… Full of all feathered sweetness: s…

In your mother’s apple-orchard, Just a year ago, last spring: Do you remember, Yvonne! The dear trees lavishing Rain of their starry blossoms

Even now the fragrant darkness of… Had brushed my cheek; and once, in… Her hand upon my hand lay tranquil… What things unspoken trembled in t… Always I know, how little severs…

Upon the eyes, the lips, the feet, On all the passages of sense, The atoning oil is spread with swe… Renewal of lost innocence. The feet, that lately ran so fast

Strange grows the river on the sun… The river comforts me, grown spect… Long was the day; at last the cons… _Sufficient for the day are the da… Labour and longing and despair the…

I would not alter thy cold eyes, Nor trouble the calm fount of spee… With aught of passion or surprise. The heart of thee I cannot reach: I would not alter thy cold eyes!