We that were born, beloved, so far… So many seas and lands, The gods, one sudden day, joined h… Locked hands in hands, Distance relented and became our f…

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…

With Pipe and Book at close of da… Oh, what is sweeter, mortal, say? It matters not what book on knee, Old Izaak or the Odyssey, It matters not meerschaum or clay.

Winter that hath few friends yet n… Of spirit erect and delicate of ey… All may applaud sweet Summer, wit… And Autumn, with her banners in t… But when from the earth’s cheek th…

There is too much beauty upon this… For lonely men to bear, Too many eyes, too enchanted skies… Too many things too fair; And the man who would live the lif…

Always thy book, too late acknowle… Now when thine eyes no earthly pag… Blinded with death, or blinded wit… Of love’s own lore celestial. Sma… Forsooth, for thee to read my eart…

The beauty of this rainy day, All silver-green and dripping gray… Has stolen quite my heart away From all the tasks I meant to do, Made me forget the resolute blue

The Décadent was speaking to his… Poor useless thing, he said, Why did God burden me with such a… The body were enough, The body gives me all.

Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…

Unless you come while still the wo… A place of birds and the blue drea… In vain has all the singing summer… Unless you come, and share it all… Ah! come, ere August flames its h…

They took away your drink from you… The kind old humanizing glass; Soon they will take tobacco too, And next they’ll take our demi-tas… Don’t say, ‘The bill will never p…

When the long day has faded to its… The flowers gone, and all the sing… And there is no companion left sav… Ah! there is one, Though in her grave she lies this…

(TO JOHN FRASER) There, in my mind’s-eye, pure it l… My lodger’s vote! ’Twas mine to-d… It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good,—

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…

Is it your face I see, your voice… Your face, your voice, again after… O is your cheek once more against… And is this blessed rain, angel, y… You have come back,-how strange-ou…