My heart, the bird of the wilderne… They are the cradle of the morning… My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in it… Let me but cleave its clouds and s…

I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to mee… Thy sun and stars can never keep t… In many a morning and eve thy foot… and thy messenger has come within…

Why did he choose to come to my do… As I come in and out I pass by hi… I know not if I should speak to h… The cloudy nights in July are dar… He weaves his songs with fresh tun…

Day after day he comes and goes aw… Go, and give him a flower from my… If he asks who was it that sent it… He sits on the dust under the tree… Spread there a seat with flowers a…

I wonder if I know him In whose speech is my voice, In whose movement is my being, Whose skill is in my lines, Whose melody is in my songs

The butterfly counts not months bu… and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes… Let your life lightly dance on the…

That I want thee, only thee——let… All desires that distract me, day… are false and empty to the core. As the night keeps hidden in its g… even thus in the depth of my uncon…

Thou who art the innermost Spirit… art thou pleased, Lord of my Life… For I give to thee my cup filled… the pain and delight that the crus… grapes of my heart had surrendered…

Why do you whisper so faintly in m… When the flowers droop in the even… Is this how you must woo and win m… Will there be no proud ceremony fo… Will you not tie up with a wreath…

MOTHER, I do want to leave off… You say it is only twelve o’clock.… I can easily imagine now that the… I can just shut my eyes and think… If twelve o’clock can come in the…

I thought that my voyage had come… at the last limit of my power,—tha… that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter… But I find that thy will knows no…

“Where have I come from, where di… its mother. She answered, half crying, half la… baby to her breast— “You were hidden in my heart as it…

You say that father write a lot of… understand. He was reading to you all the even… make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can…

Yes, I know, this is nothing but… O beloved of my heart——this golden… these idle clouds sailing across t… this passing breeze leaving its co… The morning light has flooded my e…