Strange that thou liest so, void o… For loving; so content with thy lo… That neither word nor sound may st… Calm quiet of the dream that thou… Pale now the cherished contour of…

God, in Thy Heaven hast Thou eve… Toil, when the heart and hand were… The sweet bruised scent of grasses… The sharp delight to see each dawn… Rising above the margent of the se…

I have fashioned soft raiment for… And have laid her embroidered sand… I have said I would braid and bin… But she has gone out to the orchar… Last night she lay in the dusk wit…

The earth lay wrapped in pale low… As some white tomb all ready for i… I thought, and shudderingly forwar… Into that shadowed house where nig… Darkly, as though it yet were loat…