The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the… For view there are the houses oppo… Cutting the sky with one long line… Like solid fog: far as the eye can… Monotony of surface & of form

“La noche buena se viene, La noche buena se va, Y nosotros nos iremos Y no volveremos mas.” —Old Villancico.

Your soul was lifted by the wings… Hearing the master of the violin: You praised him, praised the great… Who made that fine Chaconne; but… Of old Antonio Stradivari? –him

Maiden crowned with glossy blackne… Lithe as panther forest-roaming, Long-armed Naiad when she dances On a stream of ether floating, Bright, o bright Fedalma!

I cannot choose but think upon the… When our two lives grew like two b… At lightest thrill from the bee’s… Because the one so near the other… He was the elder and a little man

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together t… Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing… O budding time!

Day is dying! Float, o song, Down the westward river, Requiem chanting to the Day, Day, the mighty giver! Pierced by shafts of Time he blee…

‘Mid my gold-brown curls There twined a silver hair: I plucked it idly out And scarcely knew ’twas there. Coiled in my velvet sleeve it lay

If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have d… And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who he…

Should I long that dark were fair… Lacks my love aught that I should… Dark the night with breath all flo… And tender broken voice that fills With ravishment the list’ning hour…

Spring comes hither Buds the rose . . . Roses wither Sweet spring goes . . . O ja là

O bird, that used to press, Thy head against my cheek With touch that seem’d to speak, And ask a tender 'yes’ – Ay de mí, my bird:

Oh, may I join the choir invisibl… Of those immortal dead who live ag… In minds made better by their pres… In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in s…