If I were mild, and I were sweet, And laid my heart before your feet… And took my dearest thoughts to yo… And hailed your easy lies as true; Were I to murmur “Yes,” and then

God’s acre was her garden-spot, sh… She sat there often, of the Summe… Little and slim and sweet, among t… Her hair a fable in the leveled ra… She turned the fading wreath, the…

Why is it, when I am in Rome, I’d give an eye to be at home, But when on native earth I be, My soul is sick for Italy? And why with you, my love, my lord…

Her mind lives in a quiet room, A narrow room, and tall, With pretty lamps to quench the gl… And mottoes on the wall. There all the things are waxen nea…

Half across the world from me Lie the lands I’ll never see– I, whose longing lives and dies Where a ship has sailed away; I, that never close my eyes

The things she knew, let her forge… The voices in the sky, the fear, t… The gaping shepherds, and the quee… Piling their clumsy gifts of forei… Let her have laughter with her lit…

Who was there had seen us Wouldn’t bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful;

Men seldom make passes At girls who wear glasses.

They laid their hands upon my head… They stroked my cheek and brow; And time could heal a hurt, they s… And time could dim a vow. And they were pitiful and mild

They say of me, and so they should… It’s doubtful if I come to good. I see acquaintances and friends Accumulating dividends, And making enviable names

The bird that feeds from off my pa… Is sleek, affectionate, and calm, But double, to me, is worth the th… A-flickering in the elder-bush.

Oh, is it, then, Utopian To hope that I may meet a man Who’ll not relate, in accents suav… The tales of girls he used to have…

I think, no matter where you stray… That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter land… You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head,

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