The dripping of the boughs in sile… Softly; the low note of some linge… Amid the weeping vapour; the chill… Of solitary evening upon all That stirs and hopes and apprehend…

What shall I say to thee, my spir… Unaccountably conquered, where tho… Life, that, yesterday, the sun’s o… Darkened now, like a train of capt… Alas! ’tis an old trouble, vainly…

Is it we that are wise, is it we, Who have bought with a price of gr… A wisdom seldom free From scorn or disbelief, Who find this world fulfil

Man, simple and brave, easily conf… Giving his all, glad of the sun’s… Heeding little of pitiful incomple… Mending life with laughter and che… Where is he?—I see him not, but I…

As in a porch of stars we stand; t… Throbs through us, O Love, with i… And mingles us in glory of one bre… One infinite ignorance of Time an… Behold, I am dyed in you, and you…

Their hearts were burning in their… Too hot for curse or cries. They stared upon the towers that b… Before their smarting eyes. There where, since France began t…

The Mother to her brooding breast Her shrouded baby closely holds, A stationary shadow, drest In shadow, falling folds on folds. With gesture motionless as Night

A child in nature, as a child in y… If on past hours she turn remember… She but beholds sweet joys or gent… Flower hiding flower in her pure m… So flower—like, so lovely do they…

Fall now, my cold thoughts, frozen… My sad thoughts, over my heart, To be the tender burial Of sweetness and of smart. Fall soft as the snow, when all me…

Not yet a bough to bud may dare On the naked tree. Yet happy leaves in the bough prep… And could I see Far as a soaring bird, I know

O what magic shall compare Of the fresh earth or bright air To the joy that love around My full heart so swift has wound, Far beyond hope’s trembling flight

The rain was ending, and light Lifting the leaden skies. It shone upon ceiling and floor And dazzled a child’s eyes. Pale after fever, a captive

Pride is the untrue mask, Shame is a cloak that clings, Tenderness oft is a trammelling ve… Because of truth that stings. O to be stript, and to use

The stag that lifted up his kingly… Upon the silent mountains, and fro… Beneath him heard the confident ha… Of men invading his old solitudes, Then bounding over the rough slope…

Is it joy, or is it peace, Senses’ magical release, That triumphant swells my heart Where I walk the fields apart? Miracle of morning new!