What wonder that I should be dreaming
Out here in the garden to-day?
The light through the leaves is streaming,--
Paulina cries, "Play!"
...
Between the showers I went my way,
The glistening street was bright with flowers;
It seemed that March had turned to May
Between the showers.
...
THIS is the end of him, here he lies:
The dust in his throat, the worm in his eyes,
The mould in his mouth, the turf on his breast;
This is the end of him, this is best.
...
"O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine,
And let the tears together flow"--
Such was the song you sang to me
Once, long ago.
...
With beating heart and lagging feet,
Lord, I approach the Judgment-seat.
All bring hither the fruits of toil,
Measures of wheat and measures of oil;
...
Two terrors fright my soul by night and day:
The first is Life, and with her come the years;
A weary, winding train of maidens they,
With forward-fronting eyes, too sad for tears;
...
They trod the streets and squares where now I tread,
...
On Bellosguardo, when the year was young,
We wandered, seeking for the daffodil
And dark anemone, whose purples fill
The peasant's plot, between the corn-shoots sprung.
...
What does youth know of love?
Little enough, I trow!
He plucks the myrtle for his brow,
For his forehead the rose.
...
O is it Love or is it Fame,
This thing for which I sigh?
Or has it then no earthly name
For men to call it by?
...