THE DAYS go by—the days go by, Sadly and wearily to die: Each with its burden of small care… Each with its sad gift of gray hai… For those who sit, like me, and si…

THE CURTAIN rose—the play beg… The limelight on the gay garbs sho… Yet carelessly I gazed upon The painted players, maid and man, As one with idle eyes who sees

Soul, dost thou shudder at the nar… Heart, dost thou dread to moulder… To meet the fate that all things m… Strength in its pride, and beauty… What have ye done to merit nobler…

These broken lines for pardon crav… I cannot end the song with art: My grief is gray and old—her grave Is dug so deep within my heart. IT was a day of sombre heat:

Give thou a gift to me From thy treasure-house, O sea! Said a red-lipped laughing girl While the summer yet was young; And the sea laughed back and flung

Love is the sunlight of the soul, That, shining on the silken-tressÃ… Of her we love, around it seems to… A golden angel-aureole. And all her ways seem sweeter ways

The Woman at the Washtub, She works till fall of night; With soap and suds and soda Her hands are wrinkled white. Her diamonds are the sparkles

Dedicated to Louis Becke You are now in London town, Louis Becke, Keeping up your old renown, Writing yarns of women brown,

These are the flowers of sleep That nod in the heavy noon, Ere the brown shades eastward cree… To a drowsy and dreamful tune— These are the flowers of sleep.

THE old dead flowers of bygone su… The old sweet songs that are no mo… The rose-red dawns that were welco… When you and I and the world were… Are lost, O love, to the light fo…

What shall a man remember In days when he is old, And Life is a dying ember, And Fame a story told? Power—that came to leave him?

The Sun burns fiercely down the s… The sea is full of flashing eyes; The waves glide shoreward serpentw… And fawn with foamy tongues on sta… Gray rocks, each sharp-toothed as…

When the sap runs up the tree, And the vine runs o’er the wall, When the blossom draws the bee, From the forest comes a call, Wild, and clear, and sweet, and st…

See how it flashes, This grape-blood fine! Our beards it splashes, O comrade mine! Life dust and ashes

Last night, as one who hears a tra… I woke from dreams, half-laughing,… Methought that I had journeyed in… And stood upon the Planet of the… And found thereon a folk who praye…