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…

A little book, this grim November… Wherein, O tired heart, to creep… Come drink this wine and wear this… Nor heed the world, nor what the w… A thousand gardens-yet to-day ther…

This is all that is left—this lett… And do you, poor dreaming things,… That your little fire shall burn f… And this great fire be, all but th… Flower! of course she is—but is sh…

‘The daffodils are fine this year,… ‘O yes, but see my crocuses,’ said… And so we entered in and sat at ta… Within a little parlour bowered ab… With garden-noises, filled with ga…

(Obiit Nov. 18, 1909) America grows poorer day by day– Richer and richer, I have heard s… They thought of a poor wealth I d… For, one by one, the men who dream…

Your birthday, sweetheart, is my b… For, had you not been born, I who began to live beholding you Up early as the morn, That day in June beside the rose-…

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…

I meant to do my work to—day— But a brown bird sang in the apple… And a butterfly flitted across the… And all the leaves were calling me… And the wind went sighing over the…

Primrose and Violet– May they help thee to forget All that love should not remember, Sweet as meadows after rain When the sun has come again,

I know not in what place again I’… The face I love-but there is not… In the wide world where you can wa… Without my finding you, with those… Nor is there any star in all the s…

As in the woodland I walk, many a… How from the dross and the drift t… And the fires quenched in October… How foulness grows fair with the s… of sleets and snows,

Yea, love, I know, and I would ha… I know that not for us Is springtide Passion with his fi… I know this love of ours Lives not, nor yet may live,

O spirit of Life, by whatsoe’er a… Known among men, even as our fathe… Before thee, and as little childre… For counsel in Life’s dread predi… Even we, with all our lore,

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…

(_Ballade a double refrain_) Marshal of France, yet still the… Comrade at arms, on your bronzed c… The soldier’s kiss, and drop the s… Brother by brother fought we in th…