Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,A treacherous messenger, the thought of youComes to destroy me; once more I renewFirm faith in your abundance, whom I foundLong since to be but just one other moundOf sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.And once again, and wiser in no wise,I chase your colored phantom on the air,And…
A boy was standing on the bridgeAny girl would meet there.As I went over Woody KnobA youth was coming up the hillAny maid would follow.Then in I turned at my own gate,—And nothing to be sad for—To such a man as any WIFEWould pass a pretty lad for.
And roused the countryside.‘Wolf! Wolf!’—and up would startGood neighbours, bringing spadeAnd pitchfork to my aid.At length my cry was known:Therein lay my release.I met the wolf aloneAnd was devoured in peace.
More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss,And make you old, and leave me in my prime?How you and I, who scale together yetA little while the sweet, immortal heightNo pilgrim may remember or forget,As sure as the world turns, some granite nightShall lie awake and know the gracious flameGone out forever on…
Whether or not this blessed spotIs blest in every way?Now it may be, the flower for meIs this beneath my nose:How shall I tell, unless I smellThe Carthaginian rose?The fabric of my faithful loveNo power shall dim or ravelWhilst I stay here,—but oh, my dear,If I should ever travel!
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,And in the firelight to a lance extended,Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,The broken shadow dances on the wall,I will permit my memory to recallThe vision of you, by all my dreams attended.And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.Yours is a face of which I can forgetThe color and…
October — November —How she disliked the cold!She used to watch the swallowsGo down across the sky,And turn from the windowWith a little sharp sigh.And often when the brown leavesWere brittle on the ground,And the wind in the chimneyMade a melancholy sound,She had a look about herThat I wish I could forget —The look of…
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,Held by a neighbor in a subway train,How at the corner of this avenueAnd such a street (so are the papers filled)A hurrying man—who happened to be you—At noon to-day had happened to be killed,I should not cry aloud—I could not cryAloud, or wring my hands in such…
And you must welcome from another partSuch noble moods as are not mine, my dear.No gracious weight of golden fruits to sellHave I, nor any wise and wintry thing;And I have loved you all too long and wellTo carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,I must be…
The queer folk in the windowsWould smile at me and call.And in the hard wee gardensSuch pleasant men would hoe:‘Sir, may we touch the little girl’s hair!’—It was so red, you know.They cut me coloured astersWith shears so sharp and neat,They brought me grapes and plums and pearsAnd pretty cakes to eat.And out of all…
