Our tears, our songs, our laurels—… To thee in thy Gethsemane of loss… Stretched in thine unimagined agon… On Hell’s last engine of the Iron… For such a world as this that thou…

(_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…

O golden day! O silver night! That brought my own true love at l… Ah, wilt thou drop from out our si… And drown within the past? One wave, no more, in life’s wide…

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,

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…

When the spring comes again, will… Three springs I watched and waite… And listened for your voice upon t… I sought for you in many a hidden… Saying, ‘She must be there.’

My dryad hath her hiding place Among ten thousand trees. She flies to cover At step of a lover, And where to find her lovely face

Only a breath-hardly a breath! Th… Is still a huddled alabaster floor Of shelving ice and shattered slab… Stern wreckage of the fiercely fro… Gleaming in mailed wastes of white…

Why did you go away without one wo… Wave of the hand, or token of good… Nor leave some message for me with… Some sign to find you by; Some stray of blossom on the winte…

The gods are there, they hide thei… From you that will not kneel— Worship, and they reveal, Call—and ’tis they! They have not changed, nor moved f…

Dear Heart, this is my book of bo… The changing story of the wanderin… That found at last its ending in t… The love it sought and sang astray… With wild young heart and happy ea…

Thou shall not me persuade This love of ours Can in a moment fade, Like summer flowers; That a swift word or two,

I am so fair that wheresoe’er I w… Men yearn with strange desire to k… Stretch out their hands to touch m… And women follow me from place to… A poet writing honey of his dear

The cowbells wander through the wo… ‘Neath arching boughs a stream sli… In all the ferny solitude A chipmunk and a butterfly Are all that is—and you and I.

I’m not sorry I am older, love—ar… Over all youth’s fuss and flurry, All its everlasting hurry, All its solemn self-importance and… Perhaps we missed the highest reac…