TO ONE WHOM HE HAD LO… Why do I cling to thee, sad love?… Thou bringest me neither pleasure… Nor profit to my reason save in so… My daily utterance. See, thy begg…

THE SAME CONTINUED Old memories are sweet, but these… And smart like wounds yet green.… Which, for the cause that it was d… In days which counted upon greater…

Nature that day a woman was in wea… A woman in her impotent high wrath… At the dawn we watched it, a low c… Under the sun; an innocent child’s… It seemed to us rose—red and fring…

Dost thou remember, oh, dost thou… Here as we sit at home and take ou… How we went out one morning on a v… In the West? Hast thou forgotten, in these Eng…

A little honey! Ay, a little swee… A little pleasure when the years w… A joyous measure trod by dancing f… A tale of folly told by a loved to… These are the things by which our…

All white, all light, all beautifu… Love in her eyes, a glory round he… Blanched as the lilies chaste in h… Even so God’s saints in their cel… Red only are her lips, ay, red as…

This book is written for Man’s ul… A creed of joy sent down to the ag… From days of happier daring and mo… To comfort and console all hearts… Here shall ye find how Love, that…

Thus was Natalia loved and lost a… Some say that Adrian, having gain… Of his long hopes, and being of th… Too lightly for their constancy of… Or finding maybe that in spite of…

’Tis time I stepped from Horeb to… Mountains, farewell. I need a hea… Youth’s memories are not good for… And each new age has its own meed… Farewell, sad Alps, you are my ba…

Dare all things for Love’s sake,… Of Fate ask nothing, rather by yo… Rebuke it for its niggard ways unb… And trust to Love to shield you i… Remember in the shade of the new y…

If I were other than, alas, I am, A soul in strife, whom banded foem… If toil were folly and good deeds… And hydra wrong had shed its serpe… And life’s dark problems could no…

I DID not choose thee, dearest.… That made the choice, not I. Mine… As a rude shepherd’s who to some l… His offering brings and cares not… He bends his knee. The gifts alon…

The thought of night consoled him.… Natalia was dead only in false dea… The sleeping treason of some false… Some silent mystery of shortened b… Not dead in truth for ever and to…

’Twas thus with my Natalia, suppl… Who loved young Adrian to her hea… And loved him dearly, yet could no… Her fears of ill nor use her woman… To grant his wish, but ever put aw…

Tears, idle tears! Ah, who shall… Now that thy lyre, O prophet, is… What voice shall rouse the dull wo… And lead its requiem as when Grie… And thou in thy rapt youth, Time’…