Red, red gold, a kingdom’s ransom,… To weave thy yellow hair she bade… At early dawn the gossamer spiders… And wove the sunrise in. She took the treasures of the deep…

Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo r… Still in those syllables of vain d… What voice of what dead pleasures… Of Maenad laughters pulsing throu… How bravely her streets smile on m…

I will break through my bondage.… Homeless once more, a wanderer on… Marked with my soul’s sole care fo… Like Cain, lest I do murder on my… I ask not others’ goods, nor wealt…

We stayed at Lyons three days, on… In Esther’s world of wonder and r… She, glorious star, each night imm… Playing her Manons to the listeni… I glorious too, but in Love’s fir…

My childhood, then, had passed a m… Shrouded by death, my boyhood a sh… The passion of my soul as it grew… With growing youth, a bird with br… Knew nothing of its strength to da…

Thus was Natalia loved and lost a… Some say that Adrian, having gain… Of his long hopes, and being of th… Too lightly for their constancy of… Or finding maybe that in spite of…

So I, I am ashamed of my old life… Here in this saintly presence of d… Ashamed of my weak heart’s unmeani… Its loves, its lusts, its battles… And its long search of pleasure 'n…

HE ARGUES WITH HIS LIFE My life, what strange mad garments… Now that I see thee truly and am… Thou wild, lost Proteus, strangli… What shapes are these, what metamo…

Yet it is pitiful how friendships… Spite of our oaths eternal and hig… Some fall through blight of tongue… Some through strifes loud in empty… Some vanish with fame got too glor…

Moan on with thy loud changeless w… Desolate sea, Grinding thy pebbles into thankles… Oh, could I lash my angry heart l… Until it broke upon an iron land,

Mad are we all, maids, men, young… All we that wander blind and want… Dark through the world we go, daze… Edged from the flowers we loved by… Life? Have we lived it? No. We w…

Love in the summer hills, With youth to mock at ills, And kisses sweet to cheat Our idle tears away. What else has Time in store,

I LIKE the hunting of the hare Better than that of the fox; I like the joyous morning air, And the crowing of the cocks. I like the calm of the early field…

We came at last, alas! I see it y… With its open windows on the upper… To a certain house still stirring,… And just a chink left open of the… Here my companion stopped and bade…

Behold, this hour I love, as in t… I too, the accursèd one, whom gri… Like phantoms through a land of de… Have felt my heart leap up with co… Behold, I love. The tragedy of ha…