Roses, I hate you! since you stil… Contentedly, where living love is… Can fling wan fragrance thro’ this… Lift languid petals shimmering 'mi… Where love is not.

Dear Ghost, across a wind-swept s… You wander back again to me, And I am not afraid, for see I bid you rest beside me here! I press your icy lips to mine,

The hillside green with bracken. And the red plough land, The brownish hurrying rivers, Where the willows stand. The thickets and the meadows.

You’re just as pretty as the Day, That young and pink above the hill… Trips daintily along her way, With little breezy thrills. I know that when she steps to eart…

It is the dawn, that wondrous fate… Of strange desires, of thoughts an… Within the womb of possibihty. A wind new-wakened combs the silke… Lifting the foam hke some unearthl…

Sweet are the silent places of the… Green heart of woods through which… Long sloping meadows sown with sil… Old gardens thick with scents of d… Pale dome of morning, ere the firs…

This is the Sabbath day, the day… That breathes so gently in this qu… With such insistent peace that for… The silver olives on the mountain’… Forget to whisper, folded in the g…

Oh! why is the world as it is, we… With tears in our voice, and a sig… For nothing remains but an unfinis… While beauty is only hypocrisy’s m… The end of it all—but to die.

Why kinder to the breeze than unto… For oft you let him play within yo… Blow its soft curls about, and fin… The while he whispers low and tend… Into your ear; and yet how cold is…

I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…

I RODE through Eastnor woods to… And all the air did promise May, Did promise May till every tree Found voice to make much melody. And oh, the primi-ose flowers! the…

Crush these voluptuous grapes betw… Your small, strong teeth! and let… Be offered in a sacrificial rain Of sun-warmed essence; while I tw… Of all their leaves, and place it…

What is the end of all sweet thing… Of these dawns and twilights and g… Of the rose that climbs, and the s… Of the breeze that sighs, and the… Dust and ashes and death?

What a lonely little corpse our lo… Very cold, and very still, and ver… Yet he throbbed with passion there… And we thought his every word divi… Have we both grown old, that neith…

Without what desolation! mist and… And weeping trees, and roses that… While still in blossom, till the a… Lies low, and speechless, and benu… An early twilight hyies the gentle…