You often ask me, love, how much I love you, Bidding my fancy find An answer to your mind; I say: "Past count, as there are stars above you." You shake your head and say, "Many and bright are they,...
Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place, It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea's face; To mark the lights and shadows flit Across the silver moon of it. ...
I am too proud of loving thee, too proud Of the sweet months and years that now have end, To feign a heart indifferent to this loss, Too thankful-happy that the gods allowed Our orbits cross,...
Deem not my love is only for the bloom, The honey and the marble, that is You; Tis so, Belov'd, common loves consume Their treasury, and vanish like the dew. Nay, but my love's a thing that's far more true;...
Sometimes my idle heart would roam Far from its quiet happy nest, To seek some other newer home, Some unaccustomed Best: But ere it spreads its foolish wings,...
I'm not sorry I am older, love - are you? Over all youth's fuss and flurry, All its everlasting hurry, All its solemn self-importance and to-do. Perhaps we missed the highest reaches of high art;...
The world grows Lilliput, the great men go; If greatness be, it wears no outer sign; No more the signet of the mighty line Stamps the great brow for all the world to know....
High on his Patmos of the Southern Seas Our northern dreamer sleeps, Strange stars above him, and above his grave Strange leaves and wings their tropic splendours wave,...
Ho, ruddy-cheeked boys and curly maids, Who deftly ply your pails and spades, All you who sturdily take your stand On your pebble-buttressed forts of sand, And thence defy With a fearless eye...
I read there is a man who sits apart, A sort of human spider in his den, Who meditates upon a fearful art - The swiftest way to slay his fellow men. Behind a mask of glass he dreams his hell:...
The heart of the rose - how sweet Its fragrance to drain, Till the greedy brain Reels and grows faint With the garnered scent, Reels as a dream on its silver feet. ...
When leaf and flower are newly made, And bird and butterfly and bee Are at their summer posts again; When all is ready, lo! 'tis she, Suddenly there after soft rain - The deep-lashed dryad of the shade....
Shadows! the only shadows that I know Are happy shadows of the light of you, The radiance immortal shining through Your sea-deep eyes up from the soul below; Your shadow, like a rose's, on the grass...
Singing go I, seeking for ever a song Sung long ago; I ask no more to hear Her voice that sang - for I should do her wrong, Had I the power, to bring her once more near - ...
I heard - 'twas on a morning, but when it was and where, Except that well I heard it, I neither know nor care - I heard, and, oh, the sunlight was shining in the blue, A little water singing as little waters do....