In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.

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,

Tell me, strange heart, so mysteri… Unto what end? Body and soul so mysteriously meet… Strange friend and friend; Hand clasped in hand so mysterious…

Face in the tomb, that lies so sti… May I draw near, And watch you sleep and love you, Without word or tear? You smile, your eyelids flicker;

O sad-eyed man who yonder sits, Face in a book from morn till nigh… Who, though the world should go to… Pores on right through the waning… O is it sorrow or delight

Give me the lifted skirt, And the brave ways of wrong, The fist, the dagger and the sword… And the out-spoken song. Ah! bring me not the love

May is back, and You and I Are at the stream again— The leaves are out, And all about The building birds begin

From tavern to tavern Youth passes along, With an armful of girl And a heart full of song. From flower to flower

O Lady, I have looked on thee onc… Thou too hast looked on me, as tho… And though the joy was pain, the p… Bliss that more happy lovers well… Captives feast richly on a little…

Yea, let me be ‘thy bachelere,’ ’Tis sweeter than thy lord; How should I envy him, my dear, The lamp upon his board. Still make his little circle brigh…

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 thought, before my sunlit twenti… That I knew Love, and Death that… And my young broken heart in littl… Dew-like, I poured, and waited fo… Wildly-and waited-being then ninet…

I wore my heart upon my sleeve, Tis most unwise, they say, to do— But then how could I but believe The foolish thing was safe with yo… Yet, had I known, ’twas safer far

God gave us an hour for our tears, One hour out of all the years, For all the years were another’s g… Given in a cruel troth of old. And how did we spend his boon?

(To the Sweet Memory of Lucy Hin… Say not—'She once was fair;' beca… Have changed her beauty to a holie… No girl hath such a lovely face as… That hoards the sweets of many a v…