When leaves turn outward to the light, And all the roads are fringed with green, When larks are pouring, high, unseen, The joy they find in song and flight, Then I, too, with the lark would wing My little flight, and, soaring, sing. When larks drop downward to the nest, And day drops downward to the sea, And song and wing are fain to rest, The lark’s dear wisdom guideth me, And I too turn within my door, Content to dream, and sing no more.
The Spinner twisted her slender thread As she sat and spun: “The earth and the heavens are mine,” she said, “And the moon and sun; Into my web the sunlight goes, And the breath of May, And the crimson life of the new-blown rose That was born to-day.” The spinner sang in the hush of noon And her...
When Psyche’s friend becomes her lover, How sweetly these conditions blend! But, oh, what anguish to discover Her lover has become—her friend!
God keep you, dearest, all this lonely night: The winds are still, The moon drops down behind the western hill; God keep you safely, dearest, till the light. God keep you then when slumber melts away, And care and strife Take up new arms to fret our waking life, God keep you through the...
When psyche’s friend becomes her lover, How sweetly these conditions blend! But, oh, what anguish to discover Her lover has become—her friend!
A breath can fan love’s flame to burning,— Make firm resolve of trembling doubt. But, strange! at fickle fancy’s turning, The selfsame breath can blow it out.
