id="id00224">I gave her all delight and ease
 That God had given to me,
I listened to fulfill her dreams,
 Rapt with expectancy.

But all I gave, and all I did,
 Brought but a weary smile
Of gratitude upon her face;
 As though a little while,

She loitered in magnificence
 Of marble and of gold
And waited to be home again
 When the dull tale was told.

Sometimes, in the chill galleries,
 Unseen, she deemed, unheard,
I found her dancing like a leaf
 And singing like a bird.

So lone a thing I never saw
 In lonely earth or sky,
So merry and so sad a thing,
 One sad, one laughing, eye.

There came a day when on her heart
 A wildwood blossom lay,
And the world that still was April
 Was turning into May.

In the green eyes I saw a smile
 That turned my heart to stone:
My wife that came from fairyland
 No longer was alone.

For there had come a little hand
 To show the green way home,
Home through the leaves, home through the dew,
 Home through the greenwood — home.

Life. [John Hall Wheelock]

Life burns us up like fire,
 And Song goes up in flame:
The radiant body smoulders
 To the ashes whence it came.

Out of things it rises
 With a mouth that laughs and sings,
Backward it fades and falters
 Into the char of things.

Yet soars a voice above it —
 Love is holy and strong;
The best of us forever
 Escapes in Love and Song.

Song is so old. [Hermann Hagedorn]

Song is so old,
Love is so new —
Let me be still
And kneel to you.

Let me be still
And breathe no word,
Save what my warm blood
Sings unheard.

Let my warm blood
Sing low of you —
Song is so fair,
Love is so new!

That Day you came. [Lizette Woodworth Reese]

Such special sweetness was about
 That day God sent you here,
I knew the lavender was out,
 And it was mid of year.

Their common way the great winds blew,
 The ships sailed out to sea;
Yet ere that day was spent I knew
 Mine own had come to me.

As after song some snatch of tune
 Lurks still in grass or bough,
So, somewhat of the end o' June
 Lurks in each weather now.

The young year sets the buds astir,
 The old year strips the trees;
But ever in my lavender
 I hear the brawling bees.

Song. "For me the jasmine buds unfold". [Florence Earle Coates]

For me the jasmine buds unfold
 And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,
 And the wild rose breathes for me.
I feel the sap through the bough returning,
 I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning,
 I love, and the world is mine!

I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved,
 Still well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived
 Upsoars my spirit free.
For soft the hours repeat one story,
 Sings the sea one strain divine;
My clouds arise all flushed with glory —
 I love, and the world is mine!

Mother. [Theresa Helburn]

I have praised many loved ones in my song,
      And yet I stand
Before her shrine, to whom all things belong,
      With empty hand.

Perhaps the ripening future holds a time
      For things unsaid;
Not now; men do not celebrate in rhyme
      Their daily bread.

Songs for my Mother. [Anna Hempstead Branch]