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,

They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their… In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave,

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwi… There fell thy shadow, Cynara! th… Upon my soul between the kisses an… And I was desolate and sick of an… Yea, I was desolate and bowed my…

Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because t… And who am I to be straitened in… Because thy face is fair? And wha… The fairest face of all is the fac… Because the land is cold, and howe…

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…

When this, our rose, is faded, And these, our days, are done, In lands profoundly shaded From tempest and from sun: Ah, once more come together,

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…

All that I had I brought, Little enough I know; A poor rhyme roughly wrought, A rose to match thy snow: All that I had I brought.

Why is there in the least touch of… More grace than other women’s lips… If love is but a slave in fleshly… Of flesh to flesh, wherever love m… Why choose vain grief and heavy-he…

You would have understood me, had… I could have loved you, dear! as w… Had we not been impatient, dear! a… Always to disagree. What is the use of speech? Silenc…

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…

I watched the glory of her childho… Half-sorrowful to find the child… (Loved long ago in lily-time), Become a maid, mysterious and stra… With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes,…

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…

Oh, I would live in a dairy, And its Colin I would be, And many a rustic fairy Should churn the milk with me. Or the fields should be my pleasur…

Beyond the need of weeping, Beyond the reach of hands, May she be quietly sleeping, In what dim nebulous lands? Ah, she who understands!