Hail and Farewell, dear Brother of the Pen, Maker of sunshine for the minds of men, Lord of bright cheer and master of our hearts - What plaint is fit when such a friend departs?...
Poet, a truce to your song! Have you heard the heart sing? Like a brook among trees, Like the humming of bees, Like the ripple of wine: Had you heard, would you stay Blowing bubbles so long?...
Away from the silent hills and the talking of upland waters, The high still stars and the lonely moon in her quarters, I fly to the city, the streets, the faces, the towers;...
'Kiss me, dear Love!' - But there was none to hear, Only the darkness round about my bed And hollow silence, for thy face had fled, Though in my dreaming it had come so near. ...
Unless you come while still the world is green, A place of birds and the blue dreaming sea, In vain has all the singing summer been, Unless you come, and share it all with me. ...
I thought, before my sunlit twentieth year, That I knew Love, and Death that goes with it; And my young broken heart in little songs, Dew-like, I poured, and waited for my end...
He's a boy, And that's the long and (chiefly) the short of it, And the point of it and the wonderful sport of it; A two-year-old with a taste for a toy, And two chubby fists to clutch it and grasp it,...
Take 'this of Juliet and her Romeo,' Dear Heart of mine, for though yon budding sky Yearns o'er Verona, and so long ago That kiss was kissed; yet surely Thou and I,...
We thought that winter, love, would never end, That the dark year had slain the innocent May, Nor hoped that your soft hand, this summer day, Would lie, as now, in mine, beloved friend;...
RUPERT is dead, and RUPERT was my friend; "Only surviving son of" - so it ran - "Beloved husband" and the rest of it. But six months back I saw him full of life, Ardent for fighting; now he lies at ease...
The human heart will never change, The human dream will still go on, The enchanted earth be ever strange With moonlight and the morning sun, And still the seas shall shout for joy,...
Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet, That have so little of mine own to bring? That thou art beautiful from head to feet - Is that, beloved, such a little thing,...
You often ask me, love, how much I love you, Bidding my fancy find An answer to your mind; I say: "Past count, as there are stars above you." You shake your head and say, "Many and bright are they,...
Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place, It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea's face; To mark the lights and shadows flit Across the silver moon of it. ...
I am too proud of loving thee, too proud Of the sweet months and years that now have end, To feign a heart indifferent to this loss, Too thankful-happy that the gods allowed Our orbits cross,...