It is not a word spoken,

I grow so tired I almost cease to care,And yet I would that he might come once more.It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me,The bitter wind that is more cruel than he;It was the wind that knocked upon the door,But he will never knock nor enter more.

And Loves that sit a-weepingWhose joy will come too late.For some there be that ope their doors,And some there be that close,And Love must go a-begging,But whither, no one knows.His feet are on the thorny ways,And on the dew-cold grass,No ears have ever heard him sing,No eyes have seen him pass.And yet he wanders thro’…

Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,Ceaseless, insistent.The grasshopper’s horn, and far off, high in the maplesThe wheel of a locust slowly grinding the silence,Under a moon waning and warn and broken,Tired with summer.Let me remember you, voices of little insects,Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,Let me remember you,…

A shower of sunlight over ItalyAnd green Ravello dreaming on her height;I have remembered music in the dark,The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach’s,And running water singing on the rocksWhen once in English woods I heard a lark.But all remembered beauty is no moreThan a vague prelude to the thought of you–You are…

And on his lute he fashionsA little silver tune.Pierrot plays in the garden,He thinks he plays for me,But I am quite forgottenUnder the cherry tree.Pierrot plays in the garden,And all the roses knowThat Pierrot loves his music,But I love Pierrot.

He rose on eastern islandsFor Grecian girls and men;The twilight is as clear a blue,The star as shaken and as bright,And the same thought he gave to themHe gives to me to-night.

Ring on, ring on unendingly,Make all the hours a single hour,For when the dusk begins to flower,The man I love will come to me! . . .But no, go slowly as you will,I should not bid you hasten so,For while I wait for love to come,Some other girl is standing dumb,Fearing her love will go.IIOh…

Oh how can Spring take heart to comeTo a world in grief,Deep grief?The sun turns north, the days grow long,Later the evening star grows bright–How can the daylight linger onFor men to fight,Still fight?The grass is waking in the ground,Soon it will rise and blow in waves–How can it have the heart to swayOver the…

Be near me and forever bendWith the same eyes above me there;Time will fly past us like leaves flying,We shall not heed, for we shall beBeyond living, beyond dying,Knowing and known unchangeably.

You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,You were too young to know.Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before itFar apart, far away in the gusty time of year—Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking,I know your secret, my dear, my dear.Submitted by Venus

The years before I saw your faceGo by me with a wistful grace;They pass, the sensitive shy years,As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.The years went by and never knewThat each one brought me nearer you;Their path was narrow and apartAnd yet it led me to your heart–Oh sensitive shy years, oh…

How more than all they said your heart was kind,How strong you were, and quick to understand —I dared not say: ‘I who am least of thoseWho call you friend — I love you, and I craveA little love that I may be more braveBecause one watches me who cares and knows.’So, silent, long ago…