I know it must be winter (though I sleep)—
I know it must be winter, for I dream
I dip my bare feet in the running stream,
And flowers are many, and the grass grows deep.
I know I must be old (how age deceives!)—
I know I must be old, for, all unseen,
My heart grows young, as autumn fields grow green,
When late rains patter on...
When in THE FIRST GREAT HOUR
WHEN in the first great hour of sleep supreme
I saw my Dearest fair and tranquil lie,
Swift ran through all my soul this wonder-cry:
“How hast thou met and vanquished hate extreme!”
For by thy faint white smiling thou didst seem,
Sweet Magnanimity! to half defy,
Half pity, those ill things thou hadst put by,...
Fringing cypress forests dim
Where the owl makes weird abode,
Bending down with spicy limb
O’er the old plantation road,
Through the swamp and up the hill,
Where the dappled byways run,
Round the gin-house, by the mill,
Floats its incense to the sun.
Swift to catch the voice of spring,
Soon its tasselled blooms...
Her dimpled cheeks are pale;
She ’s a lily of the vale,
Not a rose.
In a muslin or a lawn
She is fairer than the dawn
To her beaux.
Her boots are slim and neat,—
She is vain about her feet,
It is said.
She amputates her r’s,
But her eyes are like the stars
Overhead.
On a...
The dew is on the heather,
The moon is in the sky,
And the captain’s waving feather
Proclaims the hour is nigh
When some upon their horses
Shall through the battle ride,
And some with bleeding corses
Must on the heather bide.
The dust is on the heather,
The moon is in the sky,
And about the captain’s...
My little girl is nested
Within her tiny bed,
With amber ringlets crested
Around her dainty head;
She lies so calm and stilly,
She breathes so soft and low,
She calls to mind a lily
Half-hidden in the snow.
A weary little mortal
Has gone to slumberland;
The Pixies at the portal
Have caught her...
Pray for the dead—who bids thee not?
Do all our human loves grow pale,
Or are the old needs all forgot
When men have passed within the veil?
Shall prayer’s strong pleadings pierce the skies
For those we still keep with us here,
And not a single wish arise
For loved ones in a happier sphere?
Have they no conquests yet to win,...
Proud, languid lily of the sacred Nile,
’T is strange to see thee on our Western wave,
Far from those sandy shores, that mile on mile,
Papyrus-plumed, stretch silent as the grave.
O’er dark, mysterious pool and sheltered bay,
And round deep dreaming isles thy leaves expand,
Where Alexandrian barges plough their way,
Full-freighted, to...
Through the fierce fever I nursed him, and then he said
I was the woman—I!—that he would wed;
He sent a boat with men for his own white priest,
And he gave my father horses, and made a feast.
I am his wife: if he has forgotten me,
I will not live for scorning eyes to see.
(Little wild baby, that knowest not where thou art going,
Lie still...
Beyond the sea, I know not where,
There is a town called Vivérols;
I know not if ’t is near or far,
I know not what its features are,
I only know ’t is Vivérols.
I know not if its ancient walls
By vine and moss be overgrown;
I know not if the night-owl calls
From feudal battlements of stone,
Inhabited by him...
