’TIS said that the Passion Flowe… With its figures of spear and swor… And hammer and nails, is a symbol Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord. So still in the Heart of Beauty

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

ALL silent is the room, There is no stir of breath, Save mine, as in the gloom I sit alone with Death. Short life it had, the sweet,

There is a town in Ireland, A little town I know; Its girls have tender Irish eyes Beneath their brows of snow; And in the field around it

GOOD fellows are laughing and dr… (To-night no heart should grieve), But I am of old days thinking, Alone, on Christmas Eve. Old memories fast are springing

The night is young yet; an enchan… In early summer: calm and darkly b… I love the Night, and every littl… She brings, to soothe the sleep of… Hearst thou the Voices? Sough! S…

O DAY, the crown and crest of al… Thou comest not to us amid the sno… But midmost of the reign of the re… Our hearts have not yet lost the a… That filled our fathers’ simple he…

If I were young as you, Sixteen, And you were old as I, I would not be as I have been, You would not be so shy— We should not watch with careless…

LO, upon the carpet, where Throned upon a heap of slain Blue-eyed dolls of beauty rare (Ah, they pleaded all in vain!) Sits the Infant Tamerlane!

O THE Queen may keep her golden Crown and sceptre of command! I would give them both twice over To be King of Babyland. Sure, it is a wondrous country

A horseman on a hilltop green Drew rein, and wound his horn; So bright he looked he might have… The Herald of the Morn. His steed was of the sovran strain

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:

They leave us– artists, singers, a… When London calls aloud, Commanding to her Festival The gifted crowd. She sits beside the ship-choked T…

We said farewell, my youth and I, When all fair dreams were gone or… And Love’s red lips were cold and… When white blooms fell from tree-t… Our Austral winter’s way of snowi…

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…