If he could know my songs are all… At silver dawn or in the evening g… Would he not smile and think it bu… If he could know? Or would his heart rejoice and ove…

I cannot die, who drank delight From the cup of the crescent moon, And hungrily as men eat bread, Loved the scented nights of June. The rest may die—but is there not

WHEN they see my songs They will sigh and say, ‘Poor soul, wistful soul, Lonely night and day.’ They will never know

The beast to the beast is calling, And the soul bends down to wait; Like the stealthy lord of the jung… The white man calls his mate. The beast to the beast is calling,

When I can make my thoughts come… To walk like ladies up and down, Each one puts on before the glass Her most becoming hat and gown. But oh, the shy and eager thoughts

(To Eleonora Duse) We are anhungered after solitude, Deep stillness pure of any speech… Soft quiet hovering over pools pro… The silences that on the desert br…

I came to the crowded Inn of Eart… And called for a cup of wine, But the Host went by with averted… From a thirst as keen as mine. Then I sat down with weariness

I asked the heaven of stars What I should I give my love— It answered me with silence, Silence above. I asked the darkened sea

MY heart is a garden tired with a… Heaped with bending asters and dah… In the hazy sunshine, the garden r… The drench of rains and a snow-dro… Daffodils blowing in the cold wind…

You bound strong sandals on my fee… You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet,

Evening, and all the birds In a chorus of shimmering sound Are easing their hearts of joy For miles around. The air is blue and sweet,

My heart is but a little house With room for only three or four, And it was filled before you knock… Upon the door. I longed to bid you come within,

At midnight, when the moonlit cypr… Have woven round his grave a magic… Still weeping the unfinished hymn… There moves fresh Maia, like a mo… Blown over jonquil beds when warm…

I have remembered beauty in the ni… Against black silences I waked to… A shower of sunlight over Italy And green Ravello dreaming on her… I have remembered music in the dar…

Heaven-invading hills are drowned In wide moving waves of mist, Phlox before my door are wound In dripping wreaths of amethyst. Ten feet away the solid earth