Lovelace Grown Old

Shade

The Vagabond

Distance

The Gypsying

Good-bye, Pierrette

The Awakening

The Wedding Gown

The Disciples

The Unknowing

Heart of a Hundred Sorrows

The Returning

The Inlander

Ad Finem

A Song of Heloise

The Return

The Poplars

The Little Joys

SONGS OF HIMSELF

THE DREAMERS

The gypsies passed her little gate—
She stopped her wheel to see,—
A brown-faced pair who walked the road,
Free as the wind is free;
And suddenly her tidy room
A prison seemed to be.

Her shining plates against the walls,
Her sunlit, sanded floor,
The brass-bound wedding chest that held
Her linen's snowy store,
The very wheel whose humming died,—
Seemed only chains she bore.

She watched the foot-free gypsies pass;
She never knew or guessed
The wistful dream that drew them close—
The longing in each breast
Some day to know a home like hers,
Wherein their hearts might rest.

THREE SONGS IN A GARDEN

I
White rose-leaves in my hands,
I toss you all away;
The winds shall blow you through the world
To seek my wedding day.
Or East you go, or West you go
And fall on land or sea,
Find the one that I love best
And bring him here to me.
And if he finds me spinning
'Tis short I'll break my thread;
And if he finds me dancing
I'll dance with him instead;
If he finds me at the Mass—
(Ah, let this not be,
Lest I forget my sweetest saint
The while he kneels by me!)

II
My lilies are like nuns in white
That guard me well all day,
But the red, red rose that near them grows
Is wiser far than they.
Oh, red rose, wise rose,
Keep my secret well;
I kiss you twice, I kiss you thrice
To pray you not to tell.
My lilies sleep beneath the moon,
But wide awake are you,
And you have heard a certain