Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit. There came a drooping maid with vi… But the spirit grasped her arm. ‘No flowers for him,’ he said.

Upon the road of my life, Passed me many fair creatures, Clothed all in white, and radiant. To one, finally, I made speech: “Who art thou?”

There was a land where lived no vi… A traveller at once demanded: “Wh… The people told him: “Once the violets of this place sp… ‘Until some woman freely gives her…

‘It was wrong to do this,’ said th… ‘You should live like a flower, Holding malice like a puppy, Waging war like a lambkin.’ ‘Not so,’ quoth the man

THOU art my love And thou art the peace of sundown When the blue shadows soothe And the grasses and the leaves sle… To the song of the little brooks

You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.

Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…

To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked,

A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets,

Ay, workman, make me a dream, A dream for my love. Cunningly weave sunlight, Breezes, and flowers. Let it be of the cloth of meadows.

Should the wide world roll away Leaving black terror Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to st… Would be to me essential

Many workmen Built a huge ball of masonry Upon a mountain-top. Then they went to the valley below… And turned to behold their work.

Once I saw mountains angry, And ranged in battle-front. Against them stood a little man; Aye, he was no bigger than my fing… I laughed, and spoke to one near m…

Do not weep, maiden, for war is ki… Because your lover threw wild hand… And the affrighted steed ran on al… Do not weep. War is kind.

Once there came a man Who said, “Range me all men of the world in… And instantly There was terrific clamour among t…