Ah! did you ever hear the Spring Calling you through the snow, Or hear the little blackbird sing Inside its egg - or go To that green land where grass begins, Each tiny seed, to grow? ...
Spake the Lord Christ - "I will arise." It seemed a saying void and vain - How shall a dead man rise again! - Vain as our tears, vain as our cries. Not one of all the little band...
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,...
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,...
Fly, little note, And know no rest Till warm you lie Within that nest Which is her breast; Though why to thee Such joy should be Who carest not, While I must wait Here desolate,...
Her eyes are bluebells now, her voice a bird, And the long sighing grass her elegy; She who a woman was is now a star In the high heaven shining down on me.
Must I believe this beauty wholly gone That in her picture here so deathless seems, And must I henceforth speak of her as one Tells of some face of legend or of dreams,...
'We're going home!' I heard two lovers say, They kissed their friends and bade them bright good-byes; I hid the deadly hunger in my eyes, And, lest I might have killed them, turned away....
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. ...
Go, little book, and be the looking-glass Of her dear soul, The mirror of her moments as they pass, Keeping the whole; Wherein she still may look on yesterday To-day to cheer,...
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,...
May is building her house. With apple blooms She is roofing over the glimmering rooms; Of the oak and the beech hath she builded its beams, And, spinning all day at her secret looms,...
When all the world has gone awry, And I myself least favour find With my own self, and but to die And leave the whole sad coil behind, Seems but the one and only way;...
Paris, half Angel, half Grisette, I would that I were with thee yet, Where the long boulevard at even Stretches its starry lamps to heaven, And whispers from a thousand trees...
The D'cadent was speaking to his soul - Poor useless thing, he said, Why did God burden me with such as thou? The body were enough, The body gives me all.