Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And one with them the cold return of day.
...
A while we wandered (thus it is I dream!)
Through a long, sandy track of No Man's Land,
Where only poppies grew among the sand,
The which we, plucking, cast with scant esteem,
...
Who is this mortal
Who ventures to-night
To woo an immortal,
Cold, cold the moon's light
...
Sleep! Cast thy canopy
Over this sleeper's brain,
Dim grow his memory,
When he wake again.
...
Violets and leaves of vine,
Into a frail, fair wreath
We gather and entwine:
...
Tears fall within mine heart,
As rain upon the town:
Whence does this languor start,
Possessing all mine heart?
...
Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind
Against the perfect flowers: thy garden's close
Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find
One strayed, last petal of one last year's rose.
...
A gift of Silence, sweet!
Who may not ever hear:
To lay down at your unobservant feet,
Is all the gift I bear.
...
They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
...