You make the sunshine of my heart And its tempestuous shower; Sometimes the thought of you is li… A lilac bush in flower, Yea, honey-sweet as hives in May.

I am athirst, but not for wine; The drink I long for is divine, Poured only from your eyes in mine… I hunger, but the bread I want, Of which my blood and brain are sc…

Thy life, O Man, in this brief mo… Time’s narrow bridge whereon we da… With an infinitude on either hand Receding luminously from our eyes. Lo, there thy Past’s forsaken Par…

Sun-Tanned men and women, toiling… Seven I count in all, in yon fiel… Where the rich ripe ears in the ha… Glow an orange gold through the sw… Busy life is still, sunk in broodi…

Like some wild sleeper who alone a… Walks with unseeing eyes along a h… With death below and only stars ab… I, in broad daylight, walk as if i… Along the edges of life’s perilous…

AS many stars as are aglow Deep in the hollows of the night As many as the flowers that blow Beneath the kindling light; As many as the birds that fly

TRANSPORTED out of self by Y… Emulous of love, to Love’s empyre… Where I beheld you aureoled in li… My soul upsprang on wings of angel… Far, far below, the earth and all…

BEHOLD, unto myself I said, This place how dull and desolate, For lovely thoughts how all unmeet… This drear and darksome London st… Above, beneath, and all around,

On life’s long round by chance I… A dell impearled with dew; Where hyacinths, gushing from the… Lent to the earth heaven’s native… Of holy blue.

I charge you, O winds of the West… That ye blow o’er the brows of my… I charge you, O dews of the Dawn,… That ye fall at the feet of my lov… I charge you, O birds of the Air,…

ACROSS the barren moors the wil… Went sweeping on, and with his sob… Filled the still night, and tore t… Through which the moon did shed he… From age to age a houseless wander…

Winding all my life about thee, Let me lay my lips on thine; What is all the world without thee… Mine—oh mine! Let me press my heart out on thee,

The rain beat in our faces, And shrill the wild airs grew; The long-maned clouds in races Coursed o’er heaven’s windy blue. The tortured trees were lashing

Yea, the roses are still on fire With the bygone heat of July, Though the least little wind drift… Shake a rose-leaf or two from the… Be it never so soft a sigh.

‘CAN the soul die, believe you? Because it seems to me My soul is dead and buried, So still it seems to be. ’It quivers not with joy;