In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago - I found, and then I lost the place; So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below. ...
Summer gone, Winter here; Ways are white, Skies are clear. And the sun A ruddy boy All day sliding, While at night The stars appear Like skaters gliding On a mere.
My head is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love's; They brush my dreaming brows With silver fluttering beat, Here in your golden house,...
The peril of fair faces all his days No man shall 'scape: be it for joy or woe, Each is the thrall of some predestined face Divinely doomed to work his overthrow,...
Yea, it is best, dear friends, who have so oft Fed full my ears with praises sweet and soft, Sweeter and softer than my song should win, Too sweet and soft - I must not listen more,...
When the fierce bugle thrilled alarm, From lands apart these fighters came. An equal courage nerved each arm, And stirred each generous heart to flame.
'The old gods pass,' the cry goes round; 'Lo! how their temples strew the ground'; Nor mark we where, on new-fledged wings, Faith, like the phoenix, soars and sings.
You must mean more than just this hour, You perfect thing so subtly fair, Simple and complex as a flower, Wrought with such planetary care; How patient the eternal power...
So now your tale of years is done, Old Fluff, my friend, and you have won, Beyond our land of mist and rain, Your way to the Elysian plain, Where through the shining hours of heat...
Kisses are long forgotten of this twain, Kisses and words - the sweet small prophecies That run before the Lord of Love: the fain Touch of the hand, and feasting of the eyes,...
Poet of doom, dementia, and death, Of beauty singing in a charnel house, Like the lost soul of a poor moon-mad maid, With too much loving of some lord of hell;...
Like winds that with the setting of the sun Draw to a quiet murmuring and cease, So is her little struggle fought and done; And the brief fever and the pain In a last sigh fade out and so release...
How fast the year is going by! Love, it will be September soon; O let us make the best of June. Already, love, it is July; The rose and honeysuckle go, And all too soon will come the snow. ...
A little book, this grim November day, Wherein, O tired heart, to creep away, - Come drink this wine and wear this fadeless rose, Nor heed the world, nor what the world shall say. ...
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?...