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

Here in the velvet stillness The wide sown fields fall to the f… Sleeping in starlight. . . . A year ago we walked in the jangli… Together . . . . forgetful.

I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love… And sang them blithely, tho’ I kn… No whit thereof. I was a weaver deaf and blind;

I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was no other creature

The northern woods are delicately… The lake is folded softly by the s… But I am restless for the subway’… The thunder and the hurrying of fe… I try to sleep, but still my eyeli…

When I talk with other men I always think of you— Your words are keener than their w… And they are gentler, too. When I look at other men,

The darkened street was muffled wi… The falling flakes had made your s… And when we found a shelter from t… Its glamor fell upon us like a blo… The clash of dishes and the viol a…

So soon my body will have gone Beyond the sound and sight of men, And tho’ it wakes and suffers now, Its sleep will be unbroken then; But oh, my frail immortal soul

If I can bear your love like a la… When I go down the long steep Roa… I shall not fear the everlasting s… Nor cry in terror. If I can find out God, then I sh…

I shall bury my weary Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see. I shall put no flowers at his head…

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

I cannot heed the words they say, The lights grow far away and dim, Amid the laughing men and maids My eyes unbidden seek for him. I hope that when he smiles at me

The April night is still and swee… With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me. My peace is hidden in his breast

I am free of love as a bird flying… Swift and intent, asking no joy fr… Glad to forget all of the passion… Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen t…

A half-hour more and you will lean To gather me close in the old swee… But oh, to the woman over the sea Who will come at the close of day? A half-hour more and I will hear