"Ah, are you digging on my grave My loved one? planting rue?" - "No: yesterday he went to wed One of the brightest wealth has bred. 'It cannot hurt her now,' he said, 'That I should not be true.'" ...
Phantasmal fears, And the flap of the flame, And the throb of the clock, And a loosened slate, And the blind night's drone, Which tiredly the spectral pines intone!
"That same first fiddler who leads the orchestra to-night Here fiddled four decades of years ago; He bears the same babe-like smile of self-centred delight,...
Yes; such it was; Just those two seasons unsought, Sweeping like summertide wind on our ways; Moving, as straws, Hearts quick as ours in those days; Going like wind, too, and rated as nought...
I skimmed the strings; I sang quite low; I hoped she would not come or know That the house next door was the one now dittied, Not hers, as when I had played unpitied;...
Why go the east road now? . . . That way a youth went on a morrow After mirth, and he brought back sorrow Painted upon his brow Why go the east road now?
You were here at his young beginning, You are not here at his aged end; Off he coaxed you from Life's mad spinning, Lest you should see his form extend Shivering, sighing, Slowly dying,...
Had you wept; had you but neared me with a frail uncertain ray, Dewy as the face of the dawn, in your large and luminous eye, Then would have come back all the joys the tidings had slain that day,...
If you had known When listening with her to the far-down moan Of the white-selvaged and empurpled sea, And rain came on that did not hinder talk, Or damp your flashing facile gaiety...
I worked no wile to meet you, My sight was set elsewhere, I sheered about to shun you, And lent your life no care. I was unprimed to greet you At such a date and place, Constraint alone had won you...
The train draws forth from the station-yard, And with it carries me. I rise, and stretch out, and regard The platform left, and see An airy slim blue form there standing, And know that it is she. ...
"I have finished another year," said God, "In grey, green, white, and brown; I have strewn the leaf upon the sod, Sealed up the worm within the clod, And let the last sun down." ...
Winter is white on turf and tree, And birds are fled; But summer songsters pipe to me, And petals spread, For what I dreamt of secretly His lips have said!
How do you know that the pilgrim track Along the belting zodiac Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds Is traced by now to the Fishes' bounds And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud...