The inkstand is full of ink, and t… in the round of light thrown by a… the corners, and keep rolling thro… is silver and pearl, for the night… See how the roof glitters, like ic…

They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river,

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in ...

Thou father of the children of my… By thee engendered in my willing h… How can I thank thee for this gif… Poured out so lavishly, and not in… What thou created never more can d…

Brighter than fireflies upon the… Are your words in the dark, Belov…

April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds. Across a deep-sunken stream

How long shall I tarnish the mirr… A spatter of rust on its polished… The seasons reel Like a goaded wheel. Half-numb, half-maddened, my days…

Naughty little speckled trout, Can’t I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day? Do you pull the Naiads’ hair

A little garden on a bleak hillsid… Where deep the heavy, dazzling mou… Lies far into the spring. The sun… Is scarcely able to melt patches w… About the single rose bush. All d…

How fresh the Dartle’s little wav… A steely silver, underlined with b… And flashing where the round cloud… Let drop the yellow sunshine to gl… And tip the edges of the waves wit…

But why did I kill him? Why? Why… In the small, gilded room, near th… My ears rack and throb with his cr… And his eyes goggle under his hair… As my fingers sink into the fair

Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone… When hours were long and days suff… Wide-eyed delights and pleasures u… By shortening moments, when no gau… Of undone duties, modern heritage,

I learnt to write to you in happie… And every letter was a piece I ch… From off my heart, a fragment newl… From the mosaic of life; its blues… Its throbbing reds, I gave to ear…

When I looked into your eyes, I saw a garden With peonies, and tinkling pagodas… And round-arched bridges Over still lakes.

Beneath this sod lie the remains Of one who died of growing pains.