The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced...

See! I give myself to you, Belove… My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a she… Their shapes are quaint and beauti… And they have many pleasant colour…

In the brown water, Thick and silver-sheened in the su… Liquid and cool in the shade of th… A pike dozed. Lost among the shadows of stems

At first a mere thread of a footpa… Sweeping triumphant across it, it… Whose blossoms were poised above l… While hidden by bloom in a hawthor… It widened a highway, majestic, st…

The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…

I own a solace shut within my hear… A garden full of many a quaint del… And warm with drowsy, poppied suns… Flaming with lilies out of whose c… Shining things

A yellow band of light upon the st… Pours from an open door, and makes… Pathway of bright gold across a sh… Of calm and liquid moonshine. Fro… Come shouts and streams of laughte…

ONCE, in the sultry heat of mids… An Emperor caused the miniature m… To be covered with white silk, That so crowned, They might cool his eyes

My heart is like a cleft pomegrana… Bleeding crimson seeds And dripping them on the ground. My heart gapes because it is ripe… And its seeds are bursting from it…

How long shall I tarnish the mirr… A spatter of rust on its polished… The seasons reel Like a goaded wheel. Half-numb, half-maddened, my days…

I want no horns to rouse me up to-… And trumpets make too clamorous a… To fit my mood, it is so weary whi… I have no wish for doing any thing… A music coaxed from humming string…

How is it that, being gone, you fi… And all the long nights are made g… No loneliness is this, nor misery, But great content that these shoul… Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as sh…

Our meeting was like the upward sw… In the blue night. I do not know when it burst; But now I stand gaping, In a glory of falling stars.

Little cramped words scrawling all… Like draggled fly’s legs, What can you tell of the flaring m… Through the oak leaves? Or of my uncertain window and theb…

Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme Had force to rise from apathy, And shaking off its lethargy Ring word-tones like a Christmas… But in my soul’s high belfry, chil…