Roses about my way, and roses still! 0, I must pick and have my very fill! Red for my heart and white upon my hair And still I shall have roses and to spare! My child, I save thee thorns! Dear little friend,...
Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not: I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, A silly sheep benighted from the fold, A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,...
Overcome -- O bitter sweetness, Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl -- The rich man and his affairs, The fat flocks and the fields' fatness, Mariners, rough harvesters; Overcome Gods upon Parnassus;...
1. My faint spirit was sitting in the light Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hind at noon For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight...
In the mighty Mother's bosom was the Wise With the mystic Father in aeonian night; Aye, for ever one with them though it arise Going forth to sound its hymn of light. ...
The Channel fog has lifted, And see where we have come! Round all the world we've drifted, A hundred years from "home". The fields our parents longed for, Ah! we shall ne'er know how,...
His day was the greatest the Northland has seen, It one was with the midnight-sun's wonders serene: The light wherein he sat was the light of God's true peace,...
The Ancient of Days forever is young, Forever the scheme of Nature thrives; I know a wind in purpose strong-- It spins against the way it drives. What if the gulfs their slimed foundations bare?...
The God of Love "ah, benedicite!" How mighty and how great a Lord is he! For he of low hearts can make high, of high He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;...
From the dark chambers of dejection freed, Spurning the unprofitable yoke of care, Rise, Gillies, rise; the gales of youth shall bear Thy genius forward like a winged steed....
My thoughts impelled me to the resting-place Where sleep my parents, many a friend and brother. I asked them (no one heard and none replied): "Do ye forsake me, too, oh father, mother?"...
Tis a song of the Never Never land Set to the tune of a scorching gale On the sandhills red, When the grasses dead Loudly rustle, and bow the head To the breath of its dusty hail: ...
What heartache - ne'er a hill! Inexorable, vapid, vague and chill The drear sand-levels drain my spirit low. With one poor word they tell me all they know; Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain,...
When the first sere leaves of the year were falling, I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled, Out of the grave of a dead Past calling, A voice I fancied forever stilled. ...
Fill high the cup with liquid flame, And speak my Heliodora's name. Repeat its magic o'er and o'er, And let the sound my lips adore, Live in the breeze, till every tone,...