When winter comes and takes away t… And all the singing of sweet birds… The warm and honeyed world lost de… Still, independent of the summer s… In vain, with sullen roar,

Face in the tomb, that lies so sti… May I draw near, And watch your sleep and love you, Without word or tear. You smile, your eyelids flicker;

How fast the year is going by! Love, it will be September soon; O let us make the best of June. Already, love, it is July; The rose and honeysuckle go,

The dead arose. Long had they dre… Deep in the grass of the still gra… Of meeting their beloved once more… They knocked at each familiar door… They waited eagerly to see

Friends whom to-night once more I… Most glad am I with you to be, And, as I look around, I meet Many a face right good to see; But one I miss—ah! where is he?—

Why did you go away without one wo… Wave of the hand, or token of good… Nor leave some message for me with… Some sign to find you by; Some stray of blossom on the winte…

Yea, let me be ‘thy bachelere,’ ’Tis sweeter than thy lord; How should I envy him, my dear, The lamp upon his board. Still make his little circle brigh…

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…

The gods are there, they hide thei… From you that will not kneel— Worship, and they reveal, Call—and ’tis they! They have not changed, nor moved f…

Two stars once on their lonely way Met in the heavenly height, And they dreamed a dream they migh… With undivided light; Melt into one with a breathless th…

In the long shimmer of the Sound May I some day be laughing found, Part of its restless to and fro, A humble worker of the tides That round the sleepless planet fl…

May is building her house. With a…    She is roofing over the glimmer… Of the oak and the beech hath she…    And, spinning all day at her se… With arras of leaves each wind-swa…

You often ask me, love, how much… Bidding my fancy find An answer to your mind; I say: ‘Past count, as there are… You shake your head and say,

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

Precious the box that Mary brake Of spikenard for her Master’s sak… But ah! it held nought half so dea… As the sweet dust that whitens her… The greater wonder who shall say: