#English
The floating call of the cuckoo, Soft little globes of bosom-shaped… Came and went at the window; And, out in the great green world, Those maidens each morn the flower…
The sun is weary, for he ran So far and fast to-day; The birds are weary, for who sang So many songs as they? The bees and butterflies at last
When the musicians hide away their… And all the petals of the rose are… And snow is drifting through the h… And the last cricket’s heart is co… O Joy, where shall we find thee?
‘We’re going home!' I heard two l… They kissed their friends and bade… I hid the deadly hunger in my eyes… And, lest I might have killed the… Ah, love! we too once gambolled ho…
She’s somewhere in the sunlight st… Her tears are in the falling ra… She calls me in the wind’s soft so… And with the flowers she comes… Yon bird is but her messenger,
I am too proud of loving thee, too… Of the sweet months and years that… To feign a heart indifferent to th… Too thankful-happy that the gods a… Our orbits cross,
Why did she marry him? Ah, say wh… How was her fancy caught? What was the dream that he drew he… Or was she only bought? Gave she her gold for a girlish wh…
(TO I——a) When rumour fain would fright my e… With the destruction and decay Of things familiar and dear, And vaunt of a swift-running day
The world is wide-around yon court… Where dirty little children play, Another world of street on street Grows wide and wider every day. And round the town for endless mil…
God of the Wine List, roseate lor… And is it really then good-by? Of Prohibitionists abhorred, Must thou in sorry sooth then die, (O fatal morning of July!)
Am I so soon grown tired?-yet thi… Can open still each morn so blue a… This great old river still through… Run like a happy boy to holidays, This sun be still a bridegroom, th…
The afternoon is lonely for your f… The pampered morning mocks the day… I was so rich at noon, the sun was… Mine the sad sea that in that rock… Girded us round with blue betrotha…
At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.
Bees make their honey out of colou… Through the June day, with all it… Heather of breezy hills, and idle… Brushing soft doors of every bloss… Filling gold thighs in drowsy ravi…
April is in the world again, And all the world is filled with f… Flowers for others, not for me! For my one flower I cannot see, Lost in the April showers.
