Skin creamy as the furled magnolia bud
That stabs the dusky shadows of her hair;
Great startled eyes, and sudden-pulsing blood
Staining her cheek and throat and shoulder bare.
(Ah Manuelita!
Lita Pepita!
List the cachucha!
Dance! dance!)
Swaying she stands, the while one rounded arm...
The Young LOVERS
I SAW them kissing in the shade and knew the sum of all my lore:
God gave them Youth, God gave them Love, and even God can give no more.
I know not from the fading Rose with parted lips what whisper went.
I only know the Nightingale sang once again his old lament.
YOUTH AND AGE
A NIGHTINGALE once lost his voice from too much...
The Ruddy poppies bend and bow,
Diane! do you remember?
The sun you knew shines proudly now,
The lake still lists the breeze’s vow,
Your towers are fairer for their stains,
Each stone you smiled upon remains.
Sing low—where is Diane?
Diane! do you remember?
I come to find you through the years,
Diane! do you...
I Will not look for him, I will not hear
My heart’s loud beating, as I strain to see
Across the rain forlorn and hopelessly,
Nor, starting, think ’t is he that draws so near.
I will forget how tenderly and dear
He might in coming hold his arms to me,
For I will prove what woman’s pride can be
When faint love lingers in the darkness drear...
Kiss me but once, and in that space supreme
My whole dark life shall quiver to an end,
Sweet Death shall see my heart and comprehend
That life is crowned, and in an endless gleam
Will fix the color of the dying stream,
That Life and Death may meet as friend with friend
An endless immortality to blend;
Kiss me but once, and so shall end my...
Was there another Spring than this?
I half remember, through the haze
Of glimmering nights and golden days,
A broken-pinioned birdling’s note,
An angry sky, a sea-wrecked boat,
A wandering through rain-beaten ways!
Lean closer, love—I have thy kiss!
Was there another Spring than this?
Does the pearl know, that in its shade and sheen,
The dreamy rose and tender wavering green,
Are hid the hearts of all the ranging seas,
That Beauty weeps for gifts as fair as these?
Does it desire aught else when its rare blush
Reflects Aurora in the morning’s hush,
Encircling all perfection can bestow,
Does the pearl know...
Sigh not for love,—the ways of love are dark!
Sweet Child, hold up the hollow of your hand
And catch the sparks that flutter from the star!
See how the late sky spreads in flushing bars!
They are dead roses from your own dear land,
Tossed high by kindly breezes; lean, and hark,
And you shall know how Morning glads her lark!
...
Thine is the mystic melody,
The far-off murmur of some dreamland sea
Lifting throughout the night,
Up to the moon’s mild light,
Waves silver-lustrous, silvery-white,
That beat in rhythm on the shadowy shore,
And burst in music, and are seen no more.
Where in its old historic splendor stands
The home of England’s far-farmed Parliament,
And waters of the Thames in calm content
At England’s fame flow slowly o’er their sands;
And where the Rhine past vine-entwined lands
Courses in castled beauty, there I went;
And far to Southern rivers, flower-besprent;
And to the icy streams of...
