Your pen needs but a ruffle To be Pavlova whirling. It surely is a scalawag A-scamping down the page. A pretty little May-wind The morning buds uncurling. And then the white sweet Russian,...
Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland silk - Impudent, intimate, delicate treasure: A noose for my heart and a ring for my finger: - Here in my study you sing me a measure. ...
Star of my heart, I follow from afar. Sweet Love on high, lead on where shepherds are, Where Time is not, and only dreamers are. Star from of old, the Magi-Kings are dead...
Would I might wake St. Francis in you all, Brother of birds and trees, God's Troubadour, Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor; Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men,...
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry, The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high, The floor was a-tremble, the door was a-jar, White fires, crimson fires, shone from afar....
Though I have watched so many mourners weep O'er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep - Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days That passed and left me in the sun's bright rays....
These, the Wings of the Morning, An Indian Maiden wove, Intertwining subtilely Wands from a willow grove Beside the Sangamon - Rude stream of Dreamland Town. She bound them to my shoulders...
The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, Now orders forth his men. He says "The time is almost here When violets bloom again."...
Down, down beneath the daisy beds, O hear the cries of pain! And moaning on the cinder-path They're blind amid the rain. Can murmurs of the worms arise To higher hearts than mine?...