In tangled wreaths, in clustered gleaming stars,
In floating, curling sprays,
The golden flower comes shining through the woods
These February days;
Forth go all hearts, all hands, from out the town,
To bring her gayly in,
This wild, sweet Princess of far Florida—
The yellow jessamine.
The live-oaks smile to see...
In a valley, centuries ago,
Grew a little fern-leaf, green and slender,
Veining delicate and fibres tender;
Waving when the wind crept down so low;
Rushes tall, and moss, and grass grew round it,
Playful sunbeams darted in and found it,
Drops of dew stole in by night, and crowned it,
But no foot of man e’er trod...
All ye who love the springtime—and who but loves it well
When the little birds do sing, and the buds begin to swell!—
Think not ye ken its beauty, or know its face so dear,
Till ye look upon old Ireland, in the dawning o’ the year!
For where in all the earth is there any joy like this,
When the skylark sings and soars like a spirit into bliss,
...
The willis are out to-night,
In the ghostly pale moonlight,
With robes and faces white.
Swiftly they circle round,
And make not any sound,
Nor footprint on the ground.
The forest is asleep;
All things that fly or creep
A death-like silence keep.
A fear is over all;
From spectral trees and tall
The...
The dragon-fly and I together
Sail up the stream in the summer weather;
He at the stern all green and gold,
And I at the oars, our course to hold.
Above the floor of the level river
The bent blades dip and spring and quiver;
And the dragon-fly is here and there,
Along the water and in the air.
And thus we go as...
An open SECRET
WOULD the lark sing the sweeter if he knew
A thousand hearts hung breathless on his lay?
And if “How fair!” the rose could hear us say,
Would she, her primal fairness to outdo,
Take on a richer scent, a lovelier hue?
Who knows or cares to answer yea or nay?
O tuneful lark! sail, singing, on your way,
Brimmed with...
Upon my bier no garlands lay,
To shrivel at death’s icy touch;
Pansies for thought bequeathed to-day,
Were worth a thousand such!
Rare flowers too often serve the pride
Which grants them—naught beside.
No lavish tears that laggard be,
Pour vainly on my pulseless clay;
A single drop of sympathy
Were richer boon...
My absent daughter—gentle, gentle maid,
Your life doth never fade!
O, everywhere I see your blue eyes shine,
And on my heart, in healing or command,
I feel the pressure of your small, warm hand
That slipped at dawn, almost without a sign,
So softly out of mine!
The birds all sing of you, my darling one;
Your day...
Serene, i fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more ’gainst time or fate,
For, lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The...
Two loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.
The name on one all men may read,
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.
On one I plant a living flower,...
