Works

Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,
Trotting home like a tired dog,
By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers
And flamed oleanders near the sea,
Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,...

Of courteous Limozin wight,
Gobertz, I will indite:
From Poicebot had he his right
Of gentlehood;
Made monk in his own despite
In San L'onart the white,
Withal to sing and to write...

That day--it was the last of many days,
Nor could we know when such days might be given
Again--we read how Dante trod the ways
Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven...

Sun and Moon, shine upon me;
Make glad my days and clear my nights!

O Earth, whose child I am,
Grant me thy patience!

O Heaven, whose heir I may be,
Keep quick my hope!
...