To-day I saw the shop-girl go
Down gay Broadway to meet her beau.
Conspicuous, splendid, conscious, sweet,
Oh, grieve not, Ladies, if at night
Ye wake to feel your beauty going.
It was a web of frail delight,
Inconstant as an April snowing.
I. Her Hands
My mother's hands are cool and fair,
They can do anything.
They bade me to my spinning
Because I was a maid,
But down into the battle
I marshalled unafraid.
Order is a lovely thing;
On disarray it lays its wing,
In the wide and rocky pasture where the cedar trees are gray,
The briar rose was growing with the blueberry and bay.
But when Endymion, wandering alone,
With youth and love of loveliness forlorn,
Being greatly sorrowful with beauty, came
I saw thee once. I shall know thee ever.
Beyond the frantic mesh
Sometimes when all the world seems grey and dun
And nothing beautiful, a voice will cry,
'Look out, look out! Angels are drawing nigh!'