Crickets calling, Apples falling. Summer dying, Life is flying. So soon over–

Her eyes are bluebells now, her vo… And the long sighing grass her ele… She who a woman was is now a star In the high heaven shining down on…

What of the darkness? Is it very… Are there great calms and find ye… Like soft-shut lilies all your fac… With some strange peace our faces… With some great faith our faces ne…

Dear Love, you ask if I be true, If other women move The heart that only beats for you With pulses all of love. Out in the chilly dew one morn

At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.

The cowbells wander through the wo… ‘Neath arching boughs a stream sli… In all the ferny solitude A chipmunk and a butterfly Are all that is—and you and I.

Deem not my love is only for the b… The honey and the marble, that is… Tis so, Beloved, common loves con… Their treasury, and vanish like th… Nay, but my love’s a thing that’s…

Morn hath a secret that she never… ’Tis on her lips and in her maiden… I think it is the way to Paradise… Or of the Fount of Youth the crys… The bee hath no such honey in her…

The fight I loved—the good old fi… Was clear as day ‘twixt Might and… Satrap and slave on either hand, Tiller and tyrant of the land; One delved the earth the other tro…

There blooms a flower in Trebizon… Stored with such honey for the bee… (So saith the antique book I conn… Of such alluring fragrancy, Not sweeter smells the Eden-tree;

Kisses are long forgotten of this… Kisses and words-the sweet small p… That run before the Lord of Love:… Touch of the hand, and feasting of… All tendrilled sweets that blossom…

Not that Queen Venus of adulterou… Whose love was lust’s insatiable f… Not hers the house I would be sin… Whose loose-lipped servants seek a… But mine the Venus of that mornin…

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…

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…

April, half-clad in flowers and sh… Walks, like a blossom, o’er the la… She smiles at May, and laughing t… The rain and sunshine hand in hand… So gay the dancing of her feet,