• Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
    Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
    Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
    Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

  •                          “A note
    All out of tune in this world’s instrument.”
    —AMY LEVY.    

    I KNOW not in what fashion she was made,
      Nor what her voice was, when she used to speak,
    Nor if the silken lashes threw a shade
            On wan or rosy cheek.

    I picture her with sorrowful vague eyes
      Illumed with such strange gleams of...

  • It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well,
    And what that maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell,
    When by there rode a valiant knight, from the town of Oviedo—
    Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo.

    “O maiden, Moorish maiden! why sitt’st thou by the spring?
    Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing?
    Why gazest thou...

  • He is stark mad, whoever says,
    That he hath been in love an hour,

    Yet not that love so soon decays,
    But that it can ten in less space devour;

    Who will believe me, if I swear

    That I have had the plague a year?
    ...

  •         'Twas but a dream; a fond and foolish dream;

                The calenture of a delirious brain,

            Whose fever thirst creates the rushing stream.

                Now to the actual I awake again:

            The vision to my gaze one moment granted,

            Fades in its light away, and leaves me disenchanted....

  • Not with a Club, the Heart is broken

    Nor with a Stone —

    A Whip so small you could not see it

    I've known


    To lash the Magic Creature

    Till it fell,

    Yet that Whip's Name

    Too noble then to tell.


    Magnanimous as Bird

    By Boy descried —

    Singing unto the...

  • Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it,

    Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,


    Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,

    Not to partake thy passion, my humility.


    Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion

    Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the...

  • Unto a broken heart

    No other one may go

    Without the high prerogative

    Itself hath suffered too.