Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter.

There was a rose that faded young; I saw its shattered beauty hung Upon a broken stem. I heard them say, “What need to c… With roses budding everywhere?”

I was seventy-seven, come August, I shall shortly be losing my bloom… I’ve experienced zephyr and raw gu… And (symbolical) flood and simoom. When you come to this time of abat…

So silent I when Love was by He yawned, and turned away; But Sorrow clings to my apron-str… I have so much to say.

In April, in April, My one love came along, And I ran the slope of my high hi… To follow a thread of song. His eyes were hard as porphyry

New love, new love, where are you… All along a narrow way that marks… How are you to slake me, and how a… With bitter yellow berries, and a… New love, new love, shall I be fo…

Star, that gives a gracious dole, What am I to choose? Oh, will it be a shriven soul, Or little buckled shoes? Shall I wish a wedding-ring,

Sleep, pretty lady, the night is e… Drift, and so lightly, on crystall… Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkn… Starlight bespangles the way of yo… Chorus the nightingales, wistfully…

I. The Minor Poet His little trills and chirpings we… No music like the nightingale’s wa… Within his throat; but he, too, la… Upon a thorn.

Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.

He’d have given me rolling lands, Houses of marble, and billowing fa… Pearls, to trickle between my hand… Smoldering rubies, to circle my ar… You– you’d only a lilting song,

Oh, I’d been better dying, Oh, I was slow and sad; A fool I was, a-crying About a cruel lad! But there was one that found me,

Lilacs blossom just as sweet Now my heart is shattered. If I bowled it down the street, Who’s to say it mattered? If there’s one that rode away

Back of my back, they talk of me, Gabble and honk and hiss; Let them batten, and let them be– Me, I can sing them this: “Better to shiver beneath the star…

Maidens, gather not the yew, Leave the glossy myrtle sleeping; Any lad was born untrue, Never a one is fit your weeping. Pretty dears, your tumult cease;