An apple caused man's fall, as some believe; But that old Snake, malevolently wise, A deadlier snare set when he left to Eve His tongue of honey and mesmeric eyes.
There is a town in Ireland, A little town I know; Its girls have tender Irish eyes Beneath their brows of snow; And in the field around it The Fairy Hawthorns grow.
The Woman at the Washtub, She works till fall of night; With soap and suds and soda Her hands are wrinkled white. Her diamonds are the sparkles The copper-fire supplies; Her opals are the bubbles...
When the tender hand of Night Like a rose-leaf falls Softly on your starry eyes; When the Sleep-God calls, And the gate of dreams is wide, Wide the painted halls, Dream the dream I send to you...
They brought my fair love out upon a bier, Out from the dwelling that her smile made sweet, Out from the life that her life made complete, Into the glitter of the garish street,...