What a honey-call you had
In hills I used to know;
Redbud, buckberry,
Wild plum-tree
And proud river sweeping
Southward to the sea,
Brown and gold in the sun
Sparkling far below,
Trailing stately round her bluffs
Where the poplars grow—
Redbirds, redbirds,
Are you singing still
As you sang one May day
On Saxton’s Hill?
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No one worth possessing
Lay that on your heart,My young angry dear;This truth, this hard and precious stone,Lay it on your hot cheek,Let it hide your tear.Hold it like a crystalWhen you are aloneAnd gaze in the depths of the icy stone.Long, look long and you will be blessed:No one worth possessingCan be quite possessed.
The birds are all a-building,
And still I linger lonelyWithin a barren bower.I weave a web of fanciesOf tears and darkness spun.How shall I sing of sunlightWho never saw the sun?I hear the pipes a-blowing,But yet I may not dance,I know that Love is passing,I cannot catch his glance.And if his voice should call meAnd I with groping dimShould reach…
A half-hour more and you will lean
But oh, to the woman over the seaWho will come at the close of day?A half-hour more and I will hearThe key in the latch and the strong quick tread–But oh, the woman over the seaWaiting at dusk for one who is dead!
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope,rose,
Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows;So the old tunes float in my mind,And go from me leaving no trace behind,Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind.but in the instant the airs remainI know the laughter and the painOf times that will not come again.I try to catch at many…
It will not hurt me when I am old,
Will not sting me like silver snakes;The years will make me sad and cold,It is the happy heart that breaks.The heart asks more than life can give,When that is learned, then all is learned;The waves break fold on jewelled fold,But beauty itself is fugitive,It will not hurt me when I am old.
I went back to the clanging city,
But my heart was full of my new love’s glory,My eyes were laughing and unafraid.I met one who had loved me madlyAnd told his love for all to hear —But we talked of a thousand things together,The past was buried too deep to fear.I met the other, whose love was givenWith never a kiss and…