Impassioned singer of the happy ti… When all the world was waking into… And dew still glistened on the tan… And lingered on the branches of th… Oh peerless singer of the golden r…

The moon is like a scimitar, A little silver scimitar, A-drifting down the sky. And near beside it is a star, A timid twinkling golden star,

Shall we, too, rise forgetful from… And shall my soul that lies within… Remember nothing, as the blowing s… Forgets the palm where long blue s… When winds along the darkened dese…

Before a lonely shrine Of foam-born Aphrodite, Ungarlanded of vine, Undyed by dripping wine, I brought green bay to twine,

A little while when I am gone My life will live in music after m… As spun foam lifted and borne on After the wave is lost in the full… A while these nights and days will…

Beneath my chamber window Pierrot was singing, singing; I heard his lute the whole night t… Until the east was red. Alas, alas Pierrot,

Child, child, love while you can The voice and the eyes and the sou… Never fear though it break your he… Out of the wound new joy will star… Only love proudly and gladly and w…

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…

Now at last I have come to see wh… Nothing is ever ended, everything… And the brave victories that seem… Are never really won. Even love that I built my spirit’…

IN Warsaw in Poland Half the world away, The one I love best of all Thought of me to-day; I know, for I went

Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang

If I should see your eyes again, I know how far their look would go… Back to a morning in the park With sapphire shadows on the snow. Or back to oak trees in the spring

Peace flows into me As the tide to the pool by the sho… It is mine forevermore, It ebbs not back like the sea. I am the pool of blue

I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south. For though I know he loves me,

To-night I close my eyes and see A strange procession passing me— The years before I saw your face Go by me with a wistful grace; They pass, the sensitive shy years…