I sang a song at dusking time Beneath the evening star, And Terence left his latest rhyme To answer from afar. Pierrot laid down his lute to weep…

It was April when you came The first time to me, And my first look in your eyes Was like my first look at the sea. We have been together

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,

Oh, there are eyes that he can see… And hands to make his hands rejoic… But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are breasts to bear his…

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

I gave my first love laughter, I gave my second tears, I gave my third love silence Thru all the years. My first love gave me singing,

Every night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and De… Confering at my head. They speak in scientific tones,

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…

I sought among the drifting leaves… The golden leaves that once were g… To see if Love were hiding there And peeping out between. For thro’ the silver showers of M…

(The daughter of Sappho) When the dusk was wet with dew, Cleïs, did the muses nine Listen in a silent line While your mother sang to you?

I am not yours, not lost in you, Not lost, although I long to be Lost as a candle lit at noon, Lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still

Wild flight on flight against the… The flames’ red wings soar upward… This is the funeral pyre and Troy… That sparkled so the day I saw it… And darkened slowly after. I am s…

My heart has grown rich with the p… I have less need now than when I… To share myself with every comer Or shape my thoughts into words wi… It is one to me that they come or…

There is no lord within my heart, Left silent as an empty shrine Where rose and myrtle intertwine, Within a place apart. No god is there of carven stone

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