Beloved, I would tell a ghostly thing
That hides beneath the simple name of Spring;
Wild beyond hope the news--the dead return,
...
I wore my heart upon my sleeve,
Tis most unwise, they say, to do--
But then how could I but believe
The foolish thing was safe with you?
...
So many times the heart can break,
So many ways,
Yet beat along and beat along
So many days.
...
When the embalmer closed my eyes,
And all the family went in black,
And shipped me off to Paradise,
I had no thought of coming back;
...
Doth it not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thou art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?-
...
Through the dark wood
There came to me a friend,
Bringing in his cold hands
Two words-'The End.'
...
Poet, whose words are like the tight-packed seed
Sealed in the capsule of a silver flower,
Still at your art we wonder as we read,
...
Why did she marry him? Ah, say why!
How was her fancy caught?
What was the dream that he drew her by,
Or was she only bought?
...
O bird that somewhere yonder sings,
In the dim hour 'twixt dreams and dawn,
Lone in the hush of sleeping things,
In some sky sanctuary withdrawn;
...
_You that would break with the Past,
Why with so rude a gesture take your leave?
None hinders, go your way; but wherefore cast
...