My window-pane is starred with fro… The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite… God pity all the homeless ones,

When I am dead and over me bright… Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me bro… I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees…

I am a cloud in the heaven’s heigh… The stars are lit for my delight, Tireless and changeful, swift and… I cast my shadow on hill and sea— But why do the pines on the mounta…

The Princess sings: I am the princess up in the tower And I dream the whole day thro’ Of a knight who shall come with a… And a waving plume of blue.

I went back to the clanging city, I went back where my old loves sta… But my heart was full of my new lo… My eyes were laughing and unafraid… I met one who had loved me madly

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…

THE days remember and the nights… The kingly hours that once you mad… Deep in my heart they lie, hidden… Buried like sovereigns in their ro… Let them not wake again, better to…

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

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

(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.

Come, when the pale moon like a pe… Floats in the pearly dusk of sprin… Come with outstretched arms to tak… Come with lips pursed up to cling. Come, for life is a frail moth fly…

I asked the heaven of stars What I should I give my love— It answered me with silence, Silence above. I asked the darkened sea

Why did you bring me here? The sand is white with snow, Over the wooden domes The winter sea-winds blow— There is no shelter near,

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;