The roofs are shining from the rai… The sparrows tritter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back-yards are bare and br…

We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien to… Once rose among the dew-drenched v… Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings’ ancient e…

We are apart; the city grows quiet… She hushes herself, for midnight m… The tangle of traffic is ended, th… Five streets divide us, and on the… Oh are you asleep, or lying awake,…

DEATH went up the hall Unseen by every one, Trailing twilight robes Past the nurse and the nun. He paused at every door

We walked together in the dusk To watch the tower grow dimly whit… And saw it lift against the sky Its flower of amber light. You talked of half a hundred thing…

I have come the selfsame path To the selfsame door, Years have left the roses there Burning as before While I watch them in the wind

I sang my songs for the rest, For you I am still; The tree of my song is bare On its shining hill. For you came like a lordly wind,

SUPPER comes at five o’clock, At six, the evening star, My lover comes at eight o’clock’€” But eight o’clock is far. How could I bear my pain all day

There never was a mood of mine, Gay or heart-broken, luminous or d… But you could ease me of its fever And give it back to me more beutif… In many another soul I broke the…

All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last Somewhere back of the sun; All the heart broke to forego

As dew leaves the cobweb lightly Threaded with stars, Scattering jewels on the fence And the pasture bars; As dawn leaves the dry grass brigh…

I lift my heart as spring lifts up A yellow daisy to the rain; My heart will be a lovely cup Altho’ it holds but pain. For I shall learn from flower and…

OH Earth, you are too dear to-nig… How can I sleep while all around Floats rainy fragrance and the far Deep voice of the ocean that talks… Oh Earth, you gave me all I have,

SO long as my spirit still Is glad of breath And lifts its plumes of pride In the dark face of death; While I am curious still