Beyond the pale of memory, In some mysterious dusky grove; A place of shadows utterly, Where never coos the turtle-dove, A world forgotten of the sun:

There comes an end to summer, To spring showers and hoar rime; His mumming to each mummer Has somewhere end in time, And since life ends and laughter,

You would have understood me, had… I could have loved you, dear! as w… Had we not been impatient, dear! a… Always to disagree. What is the use of speech? Silenc…

Love heeds no more the sighing of… Against the perfect flowers: thy g… Is grown a wilderness, where none… One strayed, last petal of one las… O bright, bright hair! O mouth li…

With delicate, mad hands, behind h… Surely he hath his posies, which t… Those scentless wisps of straw, th… His strait, caged universe, wherea… Pedant and pitiful. O, how his ra…

I was always a lover of ladies’ ha… Or ever mine heart came here to tr… For the sake of your carved white… The tapering fingers, the dainty w… The hands of a girl were what I k…

COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL Into the lonely park all frozen fa… Awhile ago there were two forms wh… Lo, are their lips fallen and thei… Hardly shall a man hear the words…

Come not before me now, O visiona… Me tempest-tost, and borne along l… Troublous and dark and stormy thou… Not here and now may we commingle… Lest the loud anguish of the water…

Sleep on, dear, now The last sleep and the best, And on thy brow, And on thy quiet breast Violets I throw.

Shall one be sorrowful because of… Which hath no earthly crown, Which lives and dies, unknown? Because no words of his shall ever… Her maiden heart to own

Let be at last; give over words an… Vainly were all things said: Better at last to find a place for… Only dead. Silence were best, with songs and…

When I am old, And sadly steal apart, Into the dark and cold, Friend of my heart! Remember, if you can,

Neobule, being tired, Far too tired to laugh or weep, From the hours, rosy and gray, Hid her golden face away. Neobule, fain of sleep,

I seek no more to bridge the gulf… Betwixt our separate ways; For vainly my heart prays, Hope droops her head and dies; I see the sad, tired answer in you…

(1887-1895) Through the green boughs I hardly… They twined so close: the sun was… And now the sullen trees in sombre… Stand bare beneath the sinister, s…