Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
Spring was like a call to me
That I could not answer,
I was chained to loneliness,
I, the dancer.
Willow, twinkling in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
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I thought I had forgotten,
To-night with the first spring thunderIn a rush of rain.I remembered a darkened doorwayWhere we stood while the storm swept by,Thunder gripping the earthAnd lightning scrawled on the sky.The passing motor busses swayed,For the street was a river of rain,Lashed into little golden wavesIn the lamp light’s stain.With the wild spring rain and thunderMy heart…
I. Off Gilbatrar
The sun goes down in yellow mist,The sky is fresh with dewy starsAbove a sea of amethyst.Yet in the city of my loveHigh noon burns all the heavens bare —For him the happiness of light,For me a delicate despair.II. Off AlgeirsOh give me neither love nor tears,Nor dreams that sear the night with fire,Go lightly…
DEATH went up the hall
Trailing twilight robesPast the nurse and the nun.He paused at every doorAnd listened to the breathOf those who did not knowHow near they were to Death.Death went up the hallUnseen by nurse and nun;He passed by many a door—But he entered one.
I shall gather myself into myself again,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ballWhere I can see the moon and the flashing sun.I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,Watching the future come and the present go,And the little shifting pictures of people rushingIn restless self-importance to and fro.
Impassioned singer of the happy time.
And dew still glistened on the tangled thorn,And lingered on the branches of the lime —Oh peerless singer of the golden rhyme,Happy wert thou to live ere doubt was born —Before the joy of life was half out-worn,And nymphs and satyrs vanished from your clime.Then maidens bearing parsley in their handsWound thro’ the groves to…
Were you a Greek when all the world was young,
Had scattered all the temples on the grass,Before the moss to marble columns clung?I think your snowy tunic must have hungAs now your gown does — wave on wave a massOf woven water. As within a glassI see your face when Homer’s tales were sung.Alcaeus kissed your mouth and found it sweet,And Sappho’s hand has…