• If I'm lost — now

    That I was found —

    Shall still my transport be —

    That once — on me — those Jasper Gates

    Blazed open — suddenly —


    That in my awkward — gazing — face —

    The Angels — softly peered —

    And touched me with their fleeces,

    Almost as if they cared —

    I'm...


  • * * *


    If it is True What the Prophets write

    That the heathen Gods are all stocks & stones

    Shall we for the sake of being Polite

    Feed them with the juice of our marrow bones
    5And if Bezaleel &...

  • If my Bark sink

    'Tis to another sea —

    Mortality's Ground Floor

    Is Immortality —

  • If pain for peace prepares

    Lo, what "Augustan" years

    Our feet await!


    If springs from winter rise,

    Can the Anemones

    Be reckoned up?


    If night stands fast — then noon

    To gird us for the sun,

    What gaze!


    When from a thousand skies

    On our...

  • If recollecting is forgetting,

    then I remember yet.

    And if forgetting, recollecting,

    how near I shall forget.

    And if to miss, were merry,

    and to mourn, were gay,

    how very blithe the fingers

    that gather this today

  • If she had been the Mistletoe

    And I had been the Rose —

    How gay upon your table

    My velvet life to close —

    Since I am of the Druid,

    And she is of the dew —

    I'll deck Tradition's buttonhole —

    And send the Rose to you.

  • If this is "fading"

    Oh let me immediately "fade"!

    If this is "dying"

    Bury me, in such a shroud of red!

    If this is "sleep,"

    On such a night

    How proud to shut the eye!

    Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!

    Peacock presumes to die!

  • If those I loved were lost

    The Crier's voice would tell me —

    If those I loved were found

    The bells of Ghent would ring —


    Did those I loved repose

    The Daisy would impel me.

    Philip — when bewildered

    Bore his riddle in!

  • If What we could — were what we would —

    Criterion — be small —

    It is the Ultimate of Talk —

    The Impotence to Tell —


  • * * *


    If you trap the moment before its ripe

    The tears of repentance youll certainly wipe

    But if once you let the ripe moment go

    You can never wipe off the tears of woe[3]