"Am Kreuzweg wird begraben Wer selber brachte sich um." When first the world grew dark to… I call’d on God, yet came not he. Whereon, as wearier wax’d my lot,

With beating heart and lagging fee… Lord, I approach the Judgment-sea… All bring hither the fruits of toi… Measures of wheat and measures of… Gold and jewels and precious wine;

To B. T. Dead-tired, dog-tired, as the vivi… Fails and slackens and fades away.… The sky that was so blue before With sudden clouds is shrouded o’e…

(From Lenau.) If within my heart there’s mould, If the flame of Poesy And the flame of Love grow cold, Slay my body utterly.

He comes; I hear him up the stree… Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, His hoarse note scares the eventid… Of slaughter, theft, and suicide

To J. De P. Deep in the grass outstretched I… Motionless on the hill; Above me is a cloudless sky, Around me all is still:

It is so long gone by, and yet How clearly now I see it all! The glimmer of your cigarette, The little chamber, narrow and tal… Perseus; your picture in its frame…

Love, you have led me to the stran… Here, where the stilly, sunset sea… Ever receding silently, Lays bare a shining stretch of san… Which, as we tread, in waving line…

(To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in… A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon… And all the eager people thronging… To that great hall, drawn by the m…

Now is the perfect moment of the y… Half naked branches, half a mist o… Vivid and delicate the slopes appe… The cool, soft air is neither fier… And in the temperate sun we feel n…

What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love

A haunted town thou art to me.<… —Andrew Lang To-day in Florence all the air Is soft with spring, with sunlight… In the tall street gay folks are m…

My student-lamp is lighted, The books and papers are spread; A sound comes floating upwards, Chasing the thoughts from my head. I open the garret window,

The sky is silver-grey; the long Slow waves caress the shore.- On such a day as this I have been… Who shall be glad no more.

What wonder that I should be drea… Out here in the garden to-day? The light through the leaves is st… Paulina cries, “Play!” The birds to each other are callin…