The Seeker
I sought for my happiness over the world, Oh, eager and far was my quest; I sought it on mountain and desert and sea, I asked it of east and of west. I sought
One of the Shepherds
We were out on the hills that night To watch our sheep; Drowsily by the fire we lay Where the waning flame did flicker and leap, And some were weary and half asleep, And
The Garden in Winter
Frosty-white and cold it lies Underneath the fretful skies; Snowflakes flutter where the red Banners of the poppies spread, And the drifts are wide and deep Where the lilies fell asleep. But the sunsets
Gratitude
I thank thee, friend, for the beautiful thought That in words well chosen thou gavest to me, Deep in the life of my soul it has wrought With its own rare essence to ever
With Tears They Buried You Today
With tears they buried you to-day, But well I knew no turf could hold Your gladness long beneath the mould, Or cramp your laughter in the clay; I smiled while others wept for you
Love's Prayer
Beloved, this the heart I offer thee Is purified from old idolatry, From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain Of passion’s dregs, by penitential pain. Take thou it, then, and fill it up
The Sea Spirit
I smile o’er the wrinkled blue Lo! the sea is fair, Smooth as the flow of a maiden’s hair; And the welkin’s light shines through Into mid-sea caverns of beryl hue, And the little
Companioned
I walked to-day, but not alone, Adown a windy, sea-girt lea, For memory, spendthrift of her charm, Peopled the silent lands for me. The faces of old comradeship In golden youth were round my
Fancies
Surely the flowers of a hundred springs Are simply the souls of beautiful things! The poppies aflame with gold and red Were the kisses of lovers in days that are fled. The purple pansies
On the Hills
Through the pungent hours of the afternoon, On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered Where the sunshine lay in a golden swoon And the lingering year all its sweetness squandered. Oh, it was
Echo Dell
In a lone valley fair and far, Where many sweet beguilements are, I know a spot to lag and dream Through damask morns and noons agleam; For feet fall lightly on the fern And
A Request
When I am dead I would that ye make my bed On that low-lying, windy waste by the sea, Where the silvery grasses rustle and lisp; There, where the crisp Foam-flakes shall fly over
The Mother
Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping Warm in my arms, And I con to my heart all your dew-fresh charms, As you lie close, close in my hungry hold. . . Your
The Farewell
He rides away with sword and spur, Garbed in his warlike blazonry, With gallant glance and smile for her Upon the dim-lit balcony. Her kiss upon his lips is warm, Upon his breast he
The Call of the Winds
Ho, come out with the wind of spring, And step it blithely in woodlands waking; Friend am I of each growing thing From the gray sod into sunshine breaking; Mine is the magic of