A Pitcher of Mignonette

More poems by Henry Cuyler Bunner

• Deaf

  As to a bird’s song she were listening,
  Her beautiful head is ever sidewise bent;
  Her questioning eyes lift up their depths intent— …

• Feminine

  She might have known it in the earlier Spring,—
  That all my heart with vague desire was stirred;
  And, ere the Summer winds had taken wing, …

• Les Morts Vont Vite

  Les morts vont vite! Ay, for a little space
  We miss and mourn them fallen from their place;
  To take our portion in their rest are fain; …

• On Reading a Poet's First Book

  This is a breath of summer wind
  That comes—we know not how—that goes
  As softly,—leaving us behind, …

All poems by Henry Cuyler Bunner →