Seeds with wings, between earth an… Fluttering, flying; Seeds of a lily with blood-red cor… Breathing of myrrh and of giroflor… Where winds drop them there must t…

SO soon asleep! Now must the comi… Weep ignorantly their loss they ca… And life miss ever what has never… We weep to-day, let theirs be sadd… Who have not seen thee near as we…

’Tis hard that the full summer of… Is but the turn where winter’s sig… That to have reached the best is l… That final loss bears date from ha… So some proud vessel in a narrow s…

(The Doubter lays aside his book.… “Answered a score of times.” Oh,… is this all you will teach me? I i… reaching my hand for you to help m… to the happy sunshine where you st…

Young laughters, and my music! Ay… The voice can reach no blending mi… ’Tis the bird’s trill because the… And spring means trilling on a blo… ’Tis the spring joy that has no wh…

MILES and miles of here and ther… Our eager river forced its way, Bent to be it knew not where. It had no rest in delay; And for its haste it had no aim;

SOME quick kind tears, some easy… And then ’tis past. ’Twas sad; yet sadness has its mor… Blue skies succeed skies overcast: Why should grief last?

“IS she sitting in the meadow Where the brook leaps to the mill, Leaning low against the poplar, Dreamily and still? Now, with joined hands, grave, now…

No, mother, I am not sad: Why think me sad? I was always st… You remember, even when my heart w… And you used to let me dream at my… And now I like better to watch th…

NAY, tell me not. I will not kno… Because of her my life is bare, A waste where blow-seeds spring an… Then die because the soil is spent… And leave no token they were there…

Five minutes here, and they must s… shameful! Here have I been five m… and not seen home nor one dear kin… and these abominable slugs, this g… this driver, porters—what are they…

The thrush that, yet alone, pipes… Knows she will come in time to bui… Knows she’ll be she his tiny soul… ’Tis love-time at the hawthorn blo… And the new flower-cups bare their…

DAY is dead, and let us sleep, Sleep a while or sleep for aye, ’Twere the best if we unknew While to-morrow dawned and grew; It may bring us time to weep:

A YOUNG fair girl among her flo… And, as to blossoms born in May, Her morrows still brought sunnier… Than made up sunny yesterday. She did but wait: ‘Hope is so swe…

DEAREST, this one day we own, Stolen from the crowd and press, Let it be sweet silence’s. We two, heart in heart, alone; Any speech were less.