The sparrows wake beneath the conv… I think I have not slept the whol… But I am old; the aged scarcely k… The times they wake and sleep, for… They breathe the calm of death bef…

When the long day goes by And I do not see your face, The old wild, restless sorrow Steals from its hiding place. My day is barren and broken,

I would live in your love as the s… Borne up by each wave as it passes… I would empty my soul of the dream… I would beat with your heart as it…

What can I give you, my lord, my… You who have given the world to me… Showed me the light and the joy th… The wild sweet earth and the restl… All that I have are gifts of your…

Oh chimes set high on the sunny to… Ring on, ring on unendingly, Make all the hours a single hour, For when the dusk begins to flower… The man I love will come to me! .…

This is the quiet hour; the theate… Have gathered in their crowds, and… The million lights blaze on for fe… Robbing the sky of stars that shou… A woman waits with bag and shabby…

Beneath my chamber window Pierrot was singing, singing; I heard his lute the whole night t… Until the east was red. Alas, alas Pierrot,

I came from the sunny valleys And sought for the open sea, For I thought in its gray expanse… My peace would come to me. I came at last to the ocean

It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it,

Fields beneath a quilt of snow From which the rocks and stubble s… And in the west a shy white star That shivers as it wakes from deep… The restless rumble of the train,

(For a picture by Duncan Walker) Lady, light in the east hangs low, Draw your veils of dream apart, Under the casement stands Pierrot Making a song to ease his heart.

Were you a Greek when all the wor… Before the weary years that pass a… Had scattered all the temples on t… Before the moss to marble columns… I think your snowy tunic must have…

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…

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,

Was that his step that sounded on… Was that his knock I heard upon t… I grow so tired I almost cease to… And yet I would that he might com… It was the wind I heard, that moc…