To hear her sing—to hear her sing— It is to hear the birds of Spring In dewy groves on blooming sprays Pour out their blithest roundelays… It is to hear the robin trill

Lay away the story,— Though the theme is sweet, There’s a lack of something yet, Leaves it incomplete:— There’s a nameless yearning—

The touches of her hands are like… Of velvet snowflakes; like the tou… The peach just brushes 'gainst the… The flossy fondlings of the thistl… Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of…

O love is like an untamed steed!— So hot of heart and wild of speed, And with fierce freedom so in love… The desert is not vast enough, With all its leagues of glimmering…

_You who to the rounded prime_ _Of a life of toil and stress_, _Still have kept the morning-time_ _Of glad youth in heart and spirit… _So your laugh, as children hear i…

Illileo, the moonlight seemed lost… The stars but strewed the azure as… The airs of night were quiet as th… And all your words were sweeter th… Illileo Legardi, in the garden th…

_Piped to the Spirit of John Kea… Would that my lips might pour out… A fitting melody—an air sublime,— A song sun-washed and draped in dr… The floss and velvet of luxurious…

Blossoms crimson, white, or blue, Purple, pink, and every hue, From sunny skies, to tintings drow… In dusky drops of dew, I praise you all, wherever found,

They all climbed up on a high boar… Nine little Goblins, with green-g… Nine little Goblins that had no s… And couldn’t tell coppers from col… And they all climbed up on the fen…

The merriment that followed was su… As though the story-teller’s attit… Were dual, in a sense, appealing q… As much to sorrow as to mere delig… According, haply, to the listener’…

Close the book and dim the light, I shall read no more to-night. No—I am not sleepy, dear— Do not go: sit by me here In the darkness and the deep

Just drifting on together— He and I— As through the balmy weather Of July Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded

Friends, my heart is half aweary Of its happiness to-night: Though your songs are gay and chee… And your spirits feather-light, There’s a ghostly music haunting

Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the stri… In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and dr…

‘He shall sleep unscathed of thiev… Who loves Allah and believes.’ Thus heard one who shared the tent… In the far-off Orient, Of the Bedouin ben Ahrzz—