What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears

(TO EDMUND GOSSE) Still towards the steep Parnassia… The moon-led pilgrims wend, Ah, who of all that start to-day Shall ever reach the end?

On drives the road-another mile! a… Time’s horses gallop down the less… O why such haste, with nothing at… Fain are we all, grim driver, to d… And stretch with lingering feet th…

I see fair women all the day, They pass and pass-and go; I almost dream that they are shade… Within a shadow-show. Their beauty lays no hand on me,

The lawless love that would not be… The love that waited, and in waiti… The love that met and mated, satis… Ah, love, ’twas good to climb forb… Who would not follow where his Ju…

The loveliest face! I turned to h… Shut in 'mid savage rocks and tree… ’Twas in the May-time of the year… And our two hearts were filled wit… And pointed where a wild-rose grew…

O golden day! O silver night! That brought my own true love at l… Ah, wilt thou drop from out our si… And drown within the past? One wave, no more, in life’s wide…

From tavern to tavern Youth passes along, With an armful of girl And a heart full of song. From flower to flower

Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…

Away from the silent hills and the… of upland waters, The high still stars and the lonel… in her quarters, I fly to the city, the streets, th…

I’m not sorry I am older, love—ar… Over all youth’s fuss and flurry, All its everlasting hurry, All its solemn self-importance and… Perhaps we missed the highest reac…

The sun is weary, for he ran So far and fast to-day; The birds are weary, for who sang So many songs as they? The bees and butterflies at last

One says he is immoral, and points… Warm sin in ruddy specks upon his… Bigot, one folly of the man you fl… Is more to God than thy lean life…

Dear Heart, this is my book of bo… The changing story of the wanderin… That found at last its ending in t… The love it sought and sang astray… With wild young heart and happy ea…

When leaf and flower are newly mad… And bird and butterfly and bee Are at their summer posts again; When all is ready, lo! ’tis she, Suddenly there after soft rain–