When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy. ...
"There are no flowers in the fields, No green leaves on the tree, No columbines, no violets, No sweet anemone. So I have gathered from my pots All that I have to fill...
When the tender hand of Night Like a rose-leaf falls Softly on your starry eyes; When the Sleep-God calls, And the gate of dreams is wide, Wide the painted halls, Dream the dream I send to you...
Imagination cannot rise above thee; Near and afar I see thee, and I love thee; My misery away from me I thrust it, For thy perfection I behold, and trust it.
The amorous youth, whose tender breast Was by his darling Cat possest, Obtain'd of Venus his desire, Howe'er irregular his fire: Nature the power of love obey'd, The Cat became a blushing maid,...
Perhaps the years go by, no letters come, Or any news of me. My every footprint covered with blind earth, My tracks grass-grown and nothing left to see. Perhaps - in black I'll visit you in dreams,...
My dearely loued friend how oft haue we, In winter evenings (meaning to be free,) To some well-chosen place vs'd to retire; And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire,...
Thine is my all, how little when 'tis told Beside thy gold! Thine the first peace, and mine the livelong strife; Thine the clear dawn, and mine the night of life; Thine the unstained belief,...
Gentlest of critics, does your memory hold (I know it does) a record of the days When I, a schoolboy, earned your generous praise For halting verse and stories crudely told?...
Chiming a dream by the way With ocean's rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the shore: Walking in maiden wise, Modest and kind and fair, The freshness of spring in her eyes...
Mother, to whose valiant will, Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book a-field, Fronting praise or blame With the shining flag and shield...
No foreign tribute from a stranger-hand, Mother, I bring thee, whom not Heaven's songs Would as an alien reach.... Ah, but how far From Heaven's least heavenly is the changing note...
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother,"...
Once more the Christian festival is near, And I, for whom each day repeats all days Continuously in ecstasy of praise, Love's birthday lasting through the unending year,...
With filial duty I address thee, Mother, Thou dearest tie which this world's wealth possesses; Endearing name! no language owns another That half the tenderness and love expresses;...