At midnight, when the moonlit cypr… Have woven round his grave a magic… Still weeping the unfinished hymn… There moves fresh Maia, like a mo… Blown over jonquil beds when warm…

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 beauty calls you to me, and yo… Past twice a thousand miles of shi… To reach me. You are as the wind… Here on the ship’s sun-smitten top… With only light between the heaven…

THE world is resting without soun… Behind the apple tree the sun goes… Painting with fire the spires and… In the elm-shaded town. Beyond the calm Connecticut the h…

You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams

DAY, you have bruised and beaten… As rain beats down the bright, pro… Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole— Yet I have wrested a gift from yo…

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

MY heart is a garden tired with a… Heaped with bending asters and dah… In the hazy sunshine, the garden r… The drench of rains and a snow-dro… Daffodils blowing in the cold wind…

What do I owe to you Who loved me deep and long? You never gave my spirit wings Or gave my heart a song. But oh, to him I loved

A FOG drifts in, the heavy laden Cold white ghost of the sea’€” One by one the hills go out, The road and the pepper-tree. I watch the fog float in at the wi…

As kings, seeing their lives about… Take off the heavy ermine and the… So had the trees that autumn-time… Their golden garments on the dying… When I, who watched the seasons i…

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

My soul lives in my body’s house, And you have both the house and he… But sometimes she is less your own Than a wild, gay adventurer; A restless and an eager wraith,

The dearest child in all the world… Should have the dearest songs, And that is why this little book To David-Boy belongs.

The beast to the beast is calling, And the soul bends down to wait; Like the stealthy lord of the jung… The white man calls his mate. The beast to the beast is calling,