(TO I——a) When rumour fain would fright my e… With the destruction and decay Of things familiar and dear, And vaunt of a swift-running day

Dear wife, there is no word in all… But unto thee belongs: Though I indeed before our true d… Mistook thy star in many a wanderi… Singing to thee in many a fair dis…

(TO MRS. HENRY HARLAND) Paris, half Angel, half Grisette, I would that I were with thee yet… Where the long boulevard at even Stretches its starry lamps to heav…

When the spring comes again, will… Three springs I watched and waite… And listened for your voice upon t… I sought for you in many a hidden… Saying, ‘She must be there.’

(TO GRANT AND NELLIE ALL… Is it the Spring? Or are the birds all wrong That play on flute and viol, A thousand strong,

Our tears, our songs, our laurels—… To thee in thy Gethsemane of loss… Stretched in thine unimagined agon… On Hell’s last engine of the Iron… For such a world as this that thou…

There is too much beauty upon this… For lonely men to bear, Too many eyes, too enchanted skies… Too many things too fair; And the man who would live the lif…

_Illius est nobis lege colendus am… On her own terms, O lover, must t… The heart’s beloved: be she kind,… Cruel, expect no more; not for thy… But for the fire in thee that melt…

Within that wood where thine own s… O! Poet, thou art passed, and at… Hollow and sere we cry, yet win no… But the dark muttering of the fore… We may not tread, nor pierce with…

This life I squander, hating the… That will not bring me either Res… This health I hack and ravage as… These nerves I fain would shatter… I fain would break—this heart that…

She bore us in her dreaming womb, And laughed into the face of Deat… She laughed, in her strange agony,… To give her little baby breath. Then, by some holy mystery,

FOR THE BEATRICE CELEB… Nine mystic revolutions of the sph… Since Dante’s birth, and lo! a st… Shining in heaven: and like a lark… Springing to meet it, straight in…

Shadows! the only shadows that I… Are happy shadows of the light of… The radiance immortal shining thro… Your sea-deep eyes up from the sou… Your shadow, like a rose’s, on the…

Who will gather with me the fallen… This drift of forgotten forsaken l… Ah! who give ear To the sigh October heaves At summer’s passing by!

Fly, little note, And know no rest Till warm you lie Within that nest Which is her breast;