You who are dead, Do you know They’ve dug up half the irises That used to grow Here in the quadrangle a year ago?

Through the Museum I stroll, and see Goblets fashioned in Arcady, Spears from the Islands, and robe… Gew-gaws of pomp and of old desire…

He looks in my heart and the image… Is himself, himself, than himself… And he thinks of my heart as a mir… To reflect the image I hold most… But my heart is much more like a s…

I sit at my machine, Hour long beside me Vera aged nin… Babbles her sweet and innocent tal… Her boy, she hopes, will prove Unlike his father in the act of lo…

If I had six white horses And six sturdy friends, I’d sell them into slavery, If that would gain your ends. I’d sell them into slavery,

When I was a child, I felt the fairies’ power. Of a sudden my dry life Would burst into flower. The skies were my path,

I have a sister whom God gave to… He formed her out of trouble and t… Like Aphrodite, she came to me fu… Oh, I am blest forever with a sis…

When Gertie came in To work today She was much less weary And far more gay. We asked her the reason

I do hate the folk I love– They hurt so. Their least word and act may be Source of woe. ‘Won’t you come to tea with me?’

Old memories waken old desires Infallibly. While we’re alive With eye or ear or sense at all, Sometimes, must love revive. But we’ll not think, when some str…

When I am so worn out I cannot sl… And yet I know I have to work nex… Or lose my job, I sometimes have… To one long dead, who listens when… I ask Saint Rose of Lima for the…

I am no mystic. All the ways of G… Are dark to me. I know not if he lived or if he di… In agony. My every act has reference to man.

The foot of my machine Sails up and down Upon the blue of this fine lady’s… Sail quickly, little boat, With gifts for me,

The strike’s done. The men won. The ships sail the sea To bring back What we lack,

My heart is a pomegranate full of… To crimson with sunshine and swell… Warmed by your smile and besprent… See, it has opened for you!