When winter comes and takes away the rose, And all the singing of sweet birds is done, The warm and honeyed world lost deep in snows, Still, independent of the summer sun, In vain, with sullen roar,...
Spake the Lord Christ - "I will arise." It seemed a saying void and vain - How shall a dead man rise again! - Vain as our tears, vain as our cries. Not one of all the little band...
Let all things vanish, if but you remain; For if you stay, beloved, what is gone? Yet, should you go, all permanence is vain, And all the piled abundance is as none. ...
The floating call of the cuckoo, Soft little globes of bosom-shaped sound, Came and went at the window; And, out in the great green world, Those maidens each morn the flowers...
Precious the box that Mary brake Of spikenard for her Master's sake, But ah! it held nought half so dear As the sweet dust that whitens here. The greater wonder who shall say:...
Is it the Spring? Or are the birds all wrong That play on flute and viol, A thousand strong, In minstrel galleries Of the long deep wood, Epiphanies Of bloom and bud. ...
I was reading a letter of yours to-day, The date - O a thousand years ago! The postmark is there - the month was May: How, in God's name, did I let you go? What wonderful things for a girl to say!...
April, half-clad in flowers and showers, Walks, like a blossom, o'er the land; She smiles at May, and laughing takes The rain and sunshine hand in hand.
April is in the world again, And all the world is filled with flowers - Flowers for others, not for me! For my one flower I cannot see, Lost in the April showers.
The beauty of this rainy day, All silver-green and dripping gray, Has stolen quite my heart away From all the tasks I meant to do, Made me forget the resolute blue And energetic gold of things . . ....
When the gusts are at play with the trees on the lawn, And the lights are put out in the vault of the night; When within all is snug, for the curtains are drawn, And the fire is aglow and the lamps are alight,...
As in the woodland I walk, many a strange thing I learn - How from the dross and the drift the beautiful things return, And the fires quenched in October in April reburn; ...
Singers all along the street, Singing every kind of song - One man's song is honey-sweet, One man's song is hammer-strong; Yet, however sweet the singing, However strong the hammer-swinging, -...
My head is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love's; They brush my dreaming brows With silver fluttering beat, Here in your golden house,...
When eight strong fellows are out to row, With a slip of a lad to guide them, I warrant they'll make the light ship go, Though the coach on the launch may chide them,...