I hated them when I was four year… The bright pink berries on the pep… And now they seem quite beautiful… My tower of dreams when I was fou… Was such a tree. Its branches hid…

Sometimes I think God has his day… For being friends. He says: 'Forgive my careless way… No one pretends I’m always kind; but for today

To look across at Moira gives me… She has a red tape measure. Her dress is black and all the wor… And I am weary. But that’s like blood—like a thin…

They used to say Our mother brought us up like hot-… From day to day Such wondrous cares were ours Her love inspired.

Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the gard… With red threads binding them and… These shall be her symbols, for sh… Holy in her maidenhood and very fu… Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlis…

I dreamt last night That spring had come. Across green fields I saw a blur Of crimson-blossomed plum. I’ve never known

Sometimes I think the happiest of… Is the blest moment of release fro… The world once more is all one’s o… Upon one’s own and not another’s p… And each poor heart imprisoned by…

Cherry plum blossom in an old tin… Oh, it is lovely, beautiful and fa… With sun on it and little shadows… All in among the fragrant wonder t… Cherry plum blossom on the workroo…

Every day Miss Mary goes her roun… Through the splendid house and thr… Looking if the kitchen table’s whi… Seeing if the great big fire’s ali… Finding specks on shining pans and…

Sometimes I watch you, mark your… Your grave brow over-weighted with… Your mouth’s straight line—details… That all aloofness in your aspect… And yet when in the dark down from…

I am no mystic. All the ways of G… Are dark to me. I know not if he lived or if he di… In agony. My every act has reference to man.

O little plum tree in the garden,… Aflower again, With memories of a million springs… Brief years of pain. O little tree, you have the power…

I have to make a soul for one Who lost his soul in childhood’s h… And I’m not sure’€”not really sur… If I have power. I don’t know whether souls are mad…

I know a room that’s dark in dayti… No sunbeams light it, Whether in months of gloom or mont… So people slight it. Yet in the noon of each succeeding…

Oh, oh Rosalie, Oh, oh Rosalie, What would you have of me? Oh, oh Rosalie. I have kisses fine,