In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things

IF I could keep my innermost Me Fearless, aloof and free Of the least breath of love or hat… And not disconsolate At the sick load of sorrow laid on…

Did you never know, long ago, how… That your love would never lessen… You were young then, proud and fre… You were too young to know. Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly…

OH, I could let the world go by, Its loud new wonders and its wars, But how will I give up the sky When winter dusk is set with stars… And I could let the cities go,

Oh if I were the velvet rose Upon the red rose vine, I’d climb to touch his window And make his casement fine. And if I were the little bird

The dreams of my heart and my mind… Nothing stays with me long, But I have had from a child The deep solace of song; If that should ever leave me,

When I have ceased to break my wi… Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate, When I have looked Life in the ey…

Was Time not harsh to you, or was… O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre… That he has left no word of singin… Whereby you waked the dreaming Le… And kindled night along the lyric…

Willow in your April gown Delicate and gleaming, Do you mind in years gone by All my dreaming? Spring was like a call to me

He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming w… I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed,

I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile, like flowing fire betwe… Where Ramses stares forth serene And ammon’s heavy temple stands. I saw the rocks where long ago,

I WATCH the great clear twiligh… Veiling the ice-bowed trees; Their branches tinkle faintly With crystal melodies. The larches bend their silver

PEOPLE that I meet and pass In the city’s broken roar, Faces that I lose so soon And have never found before, Do you know how much you tell

When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes,

When beauty grows too great to bea… How shall I ease me of its ache, For beauty more than bitterness Makes the heart break. Now while I watch the dreaming se…