Within these long gray shadows many dead Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe That at the last the threadbare soul will give All his shifts over, and stand dishevell'd,...
Hearken, O passers, what thing Fortuned in Hellas. A maid, Lissom and white as the roe, Lived recess'd in a glade. Clyti', Hamadryad, She was called that I sing--...
Long loving, all our love was husbanded Until one morning on the brown hillside, One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,...
The blue night falleth, the moon Is over the hill; make fast, Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon, Come! I would sleep at last In your bosom, my love, my love!