When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes,

IN the last year I have learned How few men are worth my trust; I have seen the friend I loved Struck by death into the dust, And fears I never knew before

Beside an ebbing northern sea While stars awaken one by one, We walk together, I and he. He woos me with an easy grace That proves him only half sincere;

Pierrot stands in the garden Beneath a waning moon, And on his lute he fashions A little silver tune. Pierrot plays in the garden,

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,

When I went to look at what had l… A jewel laid long ago in a secret… I trembled, for I thought to see… But only a pinch of dust blew up i… I almost gave my life long ago for…

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…

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

Oh Loves there are that enter in, And Loves there are that wait, And Loves that sit a-weeping Whose joy will come too late. For some there be that ope their d…

He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming w… I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed,

Like some rare queen of old romanc… Who loved the gleam of helm and la… Is she. A harper of King Arthur’s days Should praise her in a hundred lay…

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…

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

Oh flower-sweet face and bended fl… Oh violet whose purple cannot pale… Or forest fragrance ever faint or… Or breath and beauty pass among th… Yea, very truly has the poet said,

THE sun was gone, and the moon wa… Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was fl… And over my head the swallows rush… This way and that, with changeful…