A woman! lightly the mysterious wo… Falls from our lips, lightly as th… Its meaning, as we say—a flower, a… Or say the moon, the stream, the l… Simple familiar things, mysterious…

Canst thou be true across so many… So many days that keep us still ap… Ah, canst thou live upon remembere… And ask no warmer comfort for thy… I call thy name right up into the…

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,

Precious the box that Mary brake Of spikenard for her Master’s sak… But ah! it held nought half so dea… As the sweet dust that whitens her… The greater wonder who shall say:

The sad nights are here and the sa… The air is filled with portents an… Clouds that vastly loom and winds… A mournful prescience Of bright things going hence;

So many times the heart can break, So many ways, Yet beat along and beat along So many days. A fluttering thing we never see,

‘Yes, Sir, she’s gone at last-'tw… We heard her sigh from her corner,… We were all just busy on breakfast… Had just gone into the larder-but… Right up in the garret, sir, for i…

When thou art gone, then all the r… Mornings no more shall dawn, Roses no more shall blow, Thy lovely face withdrawn— Nor woods grow green again after t…

Not that Queen Venus of adulterou… Whose love was lust’s insatiable f… Not hers the house I would be sin… Whose loose-lipped servants seek a… But mine the Venus of that mornin…

‘A Library in a garden! The phrase seems to contain the wh… of man.’-Mr. EDMUND GOSSE in Gossip in a Library A world of books amid a world of g…

Wild bird, I stole you from your… And cannot find your nest again; To hear you chirp a little while I wrung your mother’s heart with p… And here you sit and droop and die…

I said-I care not if I can But look into her eyes again, But lay my hand within her hand Just once again. Though all the world be filled wit…

My door is always left ajar, Lest you should suddenly slip thro… A little breathless frightened sta… Each footfall sets my heart abeat, I always think it may be you,

Friends whom to-night once more I… Most glad am I with you to be, And, as I look around, I meet Many a face right good to see; But one I miss—ah! where is he?—

Why should I ask perfection of th… That have so little of mine own to… That thou art beautiful from head… Is that, beloved, such a little th… That I should ask more of thee, a…