My graveyard holds no once-loved human forms, Grown hideous and forgotten, left alone, But every agony my heart has known, - The new-born trusts that died, the drift of storms. ...
All to herself a woman never sings A happy song. Oh no! but it is so As when the thrush has closed down his wings Within the wood, and hears his hidden woe From his own bill fill aisles of leaves, and go...
O soul of life, 't is thee we long to hear, Thine eyes we seek for, and thy touch we dream; Lost from our days, thou art a spirit near, - Life needs thine eloquence, and ways supreme....
The sanctity that is about the dead To make us love them more than late, when here, Is not it well to find the living dear With sanctity like this, ere they have fled? ...
We see the sky, - we love it day by day; We feel the wind of Spring, from blossoms winging; We meet with souls tender as tints in May: For these large ecstasies what are we bringing? ...