God made my mother on an April da… From sorrow and the mist along the… Lost birds’ and wanderers’ songs a… And the moon loved her wandering j… Beside the ocean’s din she combed…

When May is here, and every morn Is dappled with pied bells, And dewdrops glance along the thor… And wings flash in the dells, I take my pipe and play a tune

I walk the old frequented ways That wind around the tangled braes… I live again the sunny days Ere I the city knew. And scenes of old again are born,

Once more the lark with song and s… Cleaves through the dawn, his hurr… Fall, like the flute of Ganymede Twirling and whistling from the st… The primrose and the daffodil

Maiden-poet, come with me To the heaped up cairn of Maeve, And there we’ll dance a fairy danc… Upon a fairy’s grave. In and out among the trees,

My mind is not my mind, therefore I take no heed of what men say, I lived ten thousand years before God cursed the town of Nineveh. The Present is a dream I see

She paved the way with perfume swe… Of flowers that moved like winds a… And never weary grew my feet Wandering through[the spring’s del… She dropped her sweet fife to her…

Quiet miles of golden sky, And in my heart a sudden flower. I want to clap my hands and cry For Beauty in her secret bower. Quiet golden miles of dawn—

Had I a golden pound to spend, My love should mend and sew no mor… And I would buy her a little quer… Easy to turn on the kitchen floor. And for her windows curtains white…

A blackbird singing On a moss-upholstered stone, Bluebells swinging, Shadows wildly blown, A song in the wood,

I saw you and I named a flower That lights with blue a woodland s… I named a bird of the red hour And a hidden fairy place. And then I saw you not, and knew

Now leafy winds are blowing cold, And South by West the sun goes do… A quiet huddles up the fold In sheltered corners of the brown. Like scattered fire the wild fruit…

When the clouds shake their hyssop… Like holy water falls upon the pla… ’Tis sweet to gaze upon the spring… And see your harvest born. And sweet the little breeze of mel…

Before you leave my hands’ abuses To lie where many odd things meet… Neglected darkling of the Muses, I, the last of singers, greet you. Snug in some white wing they found…

Broom out the floor now, lay the f… And plant this bee-sucked bough of… And let the window down. The butt… Floats in upon the sunbeam, and th… Tanned face of June, the nomad gi…