One day in the bloom of a violet
I found a simple word;
And my heart went softly humming it,
Till the violet must have heard.

And deep in the depth of a crimson rose
A writing showed so plain,
I scanned it over in veriest joy
To the patter of summer rain.

And then from the grateful mignonette
I read—ah, such a thing!
That the glad tears fell on it like dew,
And my soul was ready to sing.

A few little words! Before that day
I never had taken heed;
But, oh, how I blessed the love that came—
The love that taught me to read!

Love in many forms: threads for wishes begin in white

Curr dhoo, curr dhoo,
Love me, and I'll love you.

In the strength of the endeavor,
In the temper of the giver,
In the loving of the lover,
Lies the hidden recompense.

In the sowing of the sower,
In the fleeting of the flower,
In the fading of each hour,
Lurks eternal recompense.

Bring me no more flowers. Bring me cypress branches in which to plunge my face.

When the sun has disappeared behind the mountains I put on my robe of blue with the thin sleeves and go and sleep among the bamboos which she loved.

I cannot believe that I am of wind,
For earth and wind can match a god.
I cannot believe in writing so …
What would you do
If I must mind
The world of blossom's
Lay and peace?—
The rest of love
And charm's uncease?
I cannot believe the find.

My love
Knows no destination
And has no goal;
I think only
Of meeting as its limit.

Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine?
Naught see I fixed or sure in thee!
I do not know thee,—nor what deeds are thine:
Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine?
Naught see I fixed or sure in thee!

Shall I be mute, or vows with prayers combine?
Ye who are blessed in loving, tell it me:
Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine?
Naught see I permanent or sure in thee!

Fill me with the rosy wine,
Call a toast—a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.

My days are different froMyour days, my life
Is hedged about as with a hedge of flowers,
Flowers bright as roses and with thorns as keen.
So is my girlhood guarded from the strife
The turmoil of the world's contending powers.

Since shapes in shadow are but dimly seen
By those who in the summer sunlight stand,
I can but guess those sordid things and sad
That mar the great sweet world, and come between
All simple human hearts in every land.

They came between your heart, and mine made glad
Because your life is brave and gay and wise,