IN a far Eastern country It happened long of yore, Where a lone and level sunrise Flushes the desert floor, That three kings sat together

IT is the mellow season When gold enchantment lies On stream and road and woodland, To gladden soul’s surmise. The little old grey homesteads

HAVE you sailed Nantucket Sound By lightship, buoy, and bell, And lain becalmed at noon On an oily summer swell? Lazily drooped the sail,

AH, Pierrot, Where is thy Columbine? What vandal could untwine That gay rose-rope of thine, And spill thy joy like wine,

MORTAL, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Passing on her silent way,

IN the day of battle, In the night of dread, Let one hymn be lifted, Let one prayer be said. Not for pride of conquest,

Over the hills of April With soft winds hand in hand, Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, Spring leads her saraband. Her garments float and gather

OVER the wintry threshold Who comes with joy to-day, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,

(Sappho XXIII) I loved thee, Atthis, in the long… When the great oleanders were in f… In the broad herded meadows full o… And we would often at the fall of…

FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears

ONCE in the Workshop, ages ago, The clay was wet and the fire was… And He who was bent on fashioning… Moulded a shape from a clod, And put the loyal heart therein;

ON the world’s far edges Faint and blue, Where the rocky ledges Stand in view, Fades the rosy tender

When April winds arrive And the soft rains are here, Some morning by the roadside These gipsy folk appear. We never see their coming,

SAID a traveller by the way Pausing, 'What hast thou to say, Flower by the dusty road, That would ease a mortal’s load?’ Traveller, hearken unto me!

NOW the lilac tree’s in bud, And the morning birds are loud. Now a stirring in the blood Moves the heart of every crowd. Word has gone abroad somewhere