I am so fair that wheresoe'er I wend Men yearn with strange desire to kiss my face, Stretch out their hands to touch me as I pass, And women follow me from place to place. ...
Waiting in the woodland, watching for my sweet, Thinking every leaf that stirs the coming of her feet, Thinking every whisper the rustle of her gown, How my heart goes up and up, and then goes down and down....
When the musicians hide away their faces, And all the petals of the rose are shed, And snow is drifting through the happy places, And the last cricket's heart is cold and dead;...
Little chipmunk, do you know All you mean to me? - She and I and Long Ago, And you there in the tree; With that nut between your paws, Half-way to your twittering jaws,...
This is the year that has no Christmas Day, Even the little children must be told That something sad is happening far away - Or, if you needs must play, As children must,...
Dear wife, there is no word in all my songs But unto thee belongs: Though I indeed before our true day came Mistook thy star in many a wandering flame,...
Yea, it is best, dear friends, who have so oft Fed full my ears with praises sweet and soft, Sweeter and softer than my song should win, Too sweet and soft - I must not listen more,...
I bring a message from the stream To fan the burning cheeks of town, From morning's tower Of pearl and rose I bring this cup of crystal down, With brimming dews agleam,...
There's nothing I know of to make you spend A day of your life at Cragwell End. It's a village quiet and grey and old, A little village tucked into a fold (A sort of valley, not over wide)...
'Yes, Sir, she's gone at last - 'twas only five minutes ago We heard her sigh from her corner, - she sat in the kitchen, you know: We were all just busy on breakfast, John cleaning the boots, and I...
When the fierce bugle thrilled alarm, From lands apart these fighters came. An equal courage nerved each arm, And stirred each generous heart to flame.
'The old gods pass,' the cry goes round; 'Lo! how their temples strew the ground'; Nor mark we where, on new-fledged wings, Faith, like the phoenix, soars and sings.
You must mean more than just this hour, You perfect thing so subtly fair, Simple and complex as a flower, Wrought with such planetary care; How patient the eternal power...