When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
...
They made the chamber sweet with flowers and leaves,
And the bed sweet with flowers on which I lay;
While my soul, love-bound, loitered on its way.
I did not hear the birds about the eaves,
...
A baby's cradle with no baby in it,
A baby's grave where autumn leaves drop sere;
The sweet soul gathered home to Paradise,
...
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village-pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byway
...
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, -
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
...
Promise me no promises,
So will I not promise you:
Keep we both our liberties,
Never false and never true:
...
I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.
...
I was a cottage maiden
Hardened by sun and air
Contented with my cottage mates,
Not mindful I was fair.
...
From 'The Prince's Progress'
TOO late for love, too late for joy,
Too late, too late!
...
Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,
Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,
Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,
Sleeping at last.
...