Alas, my lifetime may appear
A morning-glory's hour to-day.

Well, Luath, man, when you came prancing
All glee to see your Robin dancing,
His partner's muslin gown mischancing
You leaped for joy!
And little guessed what sweet romancing
You caused, my boy!

With happy bark, that moment jolly,
You frisked and frolicked, faithful collie;
His other dog, old melancholy,
Was put to flight—
But what a tale of grief and folly
You wagged that night!

Ah, Luath, tyke, your bonny master
Whose lyric pulse beat ever faster
Each time he saw a lass and passed her
His breast went bang!

T ERNISSA ! you are fled!
I say not to the dead,
But to the happy ones who rest below:
For, surely, surely, where
Your voice and graces are,
Nothing of death can any feel or know.
Girls who delight to dwell
Where grows most asphodel,
Gather to their calm breasts each word you speak:
The mild Persephone
Places you on her knee,
And your cool palm smoothes down stern Pluto's cheek.

We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late:
We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware!
Not on silk nor in samet we lie, not in curtained solemnity die
Among women who chatter and cry, and children who mumble a prayer.
But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout, and we tramp
With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.

From the lands, where the elephants are, to the forts of Merou and Balghar,
Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum.

Lost amid gloom and solitude,
A pool lies hidden in the wood,
A pool the autumn rain has made
Where flowers with their fair shadows played.

Bare as a beggar's board, the trees
Stand in the water to their knees;
The birds are mute, but far away
I hear a bloodhound's sullen bay.

Blue-eyed forget-me-nots that shook,
Kissed by a little laughing brook,
Kissed too by you with lips so red,
Float in the water drowned and dead.

And dead and drowned 'mid leaves that rot,
Our angel-eyed Forget-me-not,
The love of unforgotten years,

Queen Eleanor was a sick woman,
And afraid that she should die;
Then she sent for two friars of France
To speak with her speedily.

The king called down his nobles all,
By one, by two, by three;
"Earl Marshall, I'll go shrive the queen,
And thou shalt wend with me."

"A boon, a boon," quoth Earl Marshall,
And fell on his bended knee,
"That whatsoever Queen Eleanor say,
No harm thereof may be."

"I'll pawn my lands," the king then cried,
"My scepter, crown, and all,
That whatsoever Queen Eleanor says,
No harm thereof shall fall.

Desolate , dark and dreary
The dawning Christmas morn,
Desolate, dark and dreary
This day that Christ was born.

Quietly, slowly, softly,
The snow sinks as a cloud,
Quietly, slowly, softly,
The snow falls like a shroud.

Silently, surely, weary,
The sentries pace their beat,
Silently, surely, weary,
The lagging hours we meet.

Imprisoned, lonely, hoping,
The future is our goal,
Imprisoned, lonely, hoping,
Time takes of us her toll.

Now is the time to decide for Christ,
Now is the precious hour
When you may taste his love unpriced,—
Know of his grace and pow'r!
Now while he waits with pardon free,
Now while he waits to gracious be,
Now is the Father's accepted time,
When he will gracious be;
Now his kind heart in pity yearns
O'er your impurity;
Now while he is so very near,
Now while you bow repentant here,
Now is the time of your deepest need,
Now the propitious day,
When the dear Lord will save indeed,
Taking your guilt away,
Now while you stand at mercy's gate,

Let me love bright things
Before my life is over . . .
Moons, and shining wings
Of bees about the clover.

Bathers in seas;
Cities by night;
Tall rainy trees;
Yellow candle-light.

And long sunlit lands
That lie anywhere;
And one with white hands
To comb her gleaming hair!

When the yellow bird's note was almost stopped;
And half formed the green plum's fruit,
Sitting and grieving that spring things were over,
I rose and entered the Eastern Garden's gate.
I carried my cup and was dully drinking alone:
Suddenly I heard a knocking sound at the door.
Dwelling secluded, I was glad that someone had come;
How much the more, when I saw it was Ch'en Hsiung!
At ease and leisure,—all day we talked;
Crowding and jostling,—the feelings of many years.
How great a thing is a single cup of wine!
For it makes us tell the story of our whole lives.