Contemptuous of his home beyond The village and the village—pond, A large—souled Frog who spurned e… Hopped along the imperial highway. Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Once I thought to sit so high In the Palace of the sky; Now, I thank God for His Grace, If I may fill the lowest place. Once I thought to scale so soon
Eight o’clock; The postman’s knock! Five letters for Papa; One for Lou, And none for you,
A pin has a head, but has no hair; A clock has a face, but no mouth t… Needles have eyes, but they cannot… A fly has a trunk without lock or… A timepiece may lose, but cannot w…
What are heavy? Sea—sand and sorr… What are brief? To—day and to—mor… What are frail? Spring blossoms a… What are deep? The ocean and trut…
Ah! changed and cold, how changed… With stiffened smiling lips and co… Changed, yet the same; much knowin… This was the promise of the days o… Grown hard and stubborn in the anc…
‘Oh, sad thy lot before I came, But sadder when I go; My presence but a flash of flame, A transitory glow Between two barren wastes like sno…
There is nothing more that they ca… For all their rage and boast; Caiaphas with his blaspheming crew… Herod with his host, Pontius Pilate in his Judgement—h…
Golden—winged, silver—winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue
A diamond or a coal? A diamond, if you please: Who cares about a clumsy coal Beneath the summer trees? A diamond or a coal?
As violets so be I recluse and sw… Cheerful as daisies unaccounted ra… Still sunward—gazing from a lowly… Still sweetening wintry air. While half—awakened Spring lags i…
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me
Three sang of love together: one w… Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in… Flushed to the yellow hair and fin… And one there sang who soft and sm… Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at…
I will tell you when they met: In the limpid days of Spring; Elder boughs were budding yet, Oaken boughs looked wintry still, But primrose and veined violet
While roses are so red, While lilies are so white, Shall a woman exalt her face Because it gives delight? She’s not so sweet as a rose,