There is a music of immaculate lov… That beats within the virgin veins… And trillium blossoms, like the st… To fairies’ wands; and, strung on… White-hearts and mandrake blooms t…

Reconciliation LISTEN, dearest! you must love… More than you did before!— Hark, what a beating here of wings… Never at rest,

OH, for some cup of consummating… Filled with life’s kind conclusion… A wine of darkness, that with deat… This sickness called existence!—O… Surcease of sorrow! quiet for the…

I do not love you now, O narrow heart, that had no height… You, whom mine fed; to whom yours… Food when mine hungered, and of wh… I do not love you now.

On southern winds shot through wit… Breathing soft balm and clothed in… The lily-fingered Spring came o’e… Waking the crocus and the daffodil… O’er the cold Earth she breathed…

THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed

What were this life without her? Joy, whose young face is sweet With dreams that flit about her, And rapture wild of feet! With hope, that knows no languor,

White clouds, like thistledown at… That drift through heaven’s azure… The sun beams down; the weedy grou… Vibrates with many an insect sound… Blackberry-lilies in the noon

Upon the summit of his Century He reared a Palace of enduring Ar… From whose wild windows never more… Beauty’s pale light and starry fan… Within is music, sobbing ceaseless…

Tattered, in ragged raiment of the… The Night arrives. Outside the wi… He stands and, streaming, taps upo… Or, crouching down beside the cell… Letting his hat-brim drain,

Lay but a finger on That pallid petal sweet, It trembles gray and wan Beneath the passing feet. But soft! blown rose, we know

Awake! the dawn is on the hills! Behold, at her cool throat a rose, Blue-eyed and beautiful she goes, Leaving her steps in daffodils.- Awake! arise! and let me see

There are three things of Earth That help us more Than those of heavenly birth That all implore Than Love or Faith or Hope,

March set heel upon the flowers, Trod and trampled them for hours: But when April’s bugles rang, Up their starry legions sprang, Radiant in the sun-shot showers.

With fall on fall, from wood to wo… The brook pours mossy music down Or is it, in the solitude, The murmur of a Faery town? A town of Elfland filled with bel…