How many million Aprils came    Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be,    A bed of squills, how blue. And many a dancing April

I would live in your love as the s… Borne up by each wave as it passes… I would empty my soul of the dream… I would beat with your heart as it…

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

Oh chimes set high on the sunny to… Ring on, ring on unendingly, Make all the hours a single hour, For when the dusk begins to flower… The man I love will come to me! .…

OUT of the noise of tired people… Harried with thoughts of war and l… His beauty met me like a fresh win… Clean boyish beauty and high-held… Eyes that told secrets, lips that…

Come, when the pale moon like a pe… Floats in the pearly dusk of sprin… Come with outstretched arms to tak… Come with lips pursed up to cling. Come, for life is a frail moth fly…

I am free of love as a bird flying… Swift and intent, asking no joy fr… Glad to forget all of the passion… Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen t…

I THOUGHT of you when I was wa… By a wind that made me glad and af… Of the rushing, pouring sound of t… That the great trees made. One thought in my mind went over a…

Oh, there are eyes that he can see… And hands to make his hands rejoic… But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are breasts to bear his…

(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…

The birds are all a-building, They say the world’s a-flower, And still I linger lonely Within a barren bower. I weave a web of fancies

You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams

I heard a cry in the night, A thousand miles it came, Sharp as a flash of light, My name, my name! It was your voice I heard,

In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things

My heart is heavy with many a song Like ripe fruit bearing down the t… But I can never give you one— My songs do not belong to me. Yet in the evening, in the dusk