Incense and Splendor haunt me as… Though my good works have been, al… Though I do naught, High Heaven… And future ages pass in tall revie… I see the years to come as armies…

Look you, I’ll go pray, My shame is crying, My soul is gray and faint, My faith is dying. Look you, I’ll go pray—

Ah, in the night, all music haunts… Is it for naught high Heaven crac… And the tremendous Amaranth desce… Sweet with the glory of ten thousa… Does it not mean my God would hav…

(What the Mendicant Said ) The moon’s a monk, unmated, Who walks his cell, the sky. His strength is that of heaven-vow… Who all life’s flames defy.

Sleep softly... eagle forgotten...… Time has its way with you there, a… “We have buried him now,” thought… They made a brave show of their mo… They had snarled at you, barked at…

Hungry for music with a desperate… I prowled abroad, I threaded thro… The evening crowd was clamoring an… Vulgar and pitiful—my heart bowed… Till I remembered duller hours ma…

(IN THE BEGINNING) The sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an indian girl, Of the tribe of the Illinois.

Where does Cinderella sleep? By far-off day-dream river. A secret place her burning Prince Decks, while his heart-strings qui… Homesick for our cinder world,

Sometimes I dip my pen and find t… The salamanders flying forth I ca… It’s Etna, or Vesuvius, if those… And then ’tis but itself again, an… And so my blood grows cold. I say…

The old man had his box and wheel For grinding knives and shears. No doubt his bell in village stree… Was joy to children’s ears. And I bethought me of my youth

The angels guide him now, And watch his curly head, And lead him in their games, The little boy we led. He cannot come to harm,

They say one king is mad. Perhaps… They say one king is doddering and… They say one king is slack and sic… A puppet for hid strings that twit… Is Europe then to be their sprawl…

A Chant for Boys with Manly Voic… (Every line sung one step deeper t… Any sky-bird sings, Ring, ring! Any church-chime rings,

MOVING-PICTURE ACTRESS (On hearing she was leaving the… Mary Pickford, doll divine, Year by year, and every day At the movmg-picture play,

Your dust will be upon the wind Within some certain years, Though you be sealed in lead to-da… Amid the country’s tears. When this idyllic churchyard