They brought to the little Princess, from her earliest hour of birth,
The lovely things, the beautiful things, the soft things of earth.
...
I am as weary as a child
That weeps upon its mother's breast
For joy of comforting. But I
Have no such place to rest.
...
Oh, Heart of a Hundred Sorrows,
Whose pity is great therefore,
The gift that thy children bring thee
Is ever a sorrow more.
...
I
My life has been like a bee that roves
Through a scented garden close,
And 'tis I who have kept the honey of love,
...
I
White rose-leaves in my hands,
I toss you all away;
The winds shall blow you through the world
...
They are ashamed who leave so soon
The Inn of Grief—who thought to stay
Through many a faithful sun and moon,
...
High above his happy head
Little leaves of Spring were spread;
And adown the dewy lawn
Soft as moss the young green grass
...
ONE star for all she had,
And in her heart
One wound--yet is she glad
For all its smart
...
What do they know of youth, who still are young?
They but the singers of a golden song
Who may not guess its worth or wonder—flung
...
God send thee peace, Oh, great unhappy heart—
A world away, I pray that thou mayst rest
Softly as on the Well-Belovèd's breast,
...