When Spring blows o’er the land, and sunlight fliesAcross the hills, we take the upland way.I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyesAnd lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gayAs flowers. “Thou hast two lovers, O my dear,”Say I; and she, “He takes what thou dost fear.”

In June I brought her roses, and she cuptOne slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,And put it to her mouth. Rose and she suptEach other’s sweetness; but the flower was litBy her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breastShe laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.

Blue is the Adrian sea, and darkly blueThe AEgean; and the shafted sun thro’ them,That fishes grope to, gives the beamy hueRayed from her iris’s deep diadem.

The blue night falleth, the moonIs over the hill; make fast,Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,Come! I would sleep at lastIn your bosom, my love, my love! The airy chamber aboveHas the lattice ajar, that nightMay breathe upon you and me, my love,And the moon bless our marriage-rite–Come, lassy, to bed, to bed! […]

(AT WESTMINSTER) Within these long gray shadows many deadLie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believeThat at the last the threadbare soul will giveAll his shifts over, and stand dishevelled,Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,“Ye two have waited long, daring to liveGrimly through days tormented; now reprieveAwaiteth you with all these […]

I i O what is this you’ve done to me,Or what have I done,That bare should be our fair roof-tree,And I all alone?‘Tis worse than widow I becomeMore than desolate,To face a worse than empty homeWithout child or mate. ‘Twas not my strife askt him his lifeWhen it was but begun,Nor mine, I was a […]

To the Fountain of my long Dream,To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,To the Lamp held up, and the StreamOf Light that beacons the Morrow; To the Bow, the Quiver and Dart,To the Bridle-rein, to the YokeProudly upborne, to the HeartOn Fire, to the Mercy-stroke; To Apollo herding his Cattle,To Proserpina grave in Dis;To the […]

Breathless was she and would not have us part:“Adieu, my Saint,” I said, “’tis come to this.”But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.

Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;The fainting twilight held her, and I guess’dAll she would tell, but could not let me see–Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,And confidence, and still expectancy.