When this, our rose, is faded, And these, our days, are done, In lands profoundly shaded From tempest and from sun: Ah, once more come together, Shall we forgive the past,...
Before my light goes out for ever if God should give me a choice of graces, I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be; But cry: "One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces,...
They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave, So quiet a grave.
See how the trees and the osiers lithe Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe, The meadows have donned their cape of flowers, The air is soft with the sweet May showers, And the birds make melody:...
When I am old, And sadly steal apart, Into the dark and cold, Friend of my heart! Remember, if you can, Not him who lingers, but that other man, Who loved and sang, and had a beating heart,--...
With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars, Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine; Those scentless wisps of straw, that miserably line...