Without ,—dull sky and howling sea,
And the head of St. Gildas' savage abbey,
Wrapped in thought as man can be,
Pacing his cloister absently;
Within,—the mutinous gray monks, met
Where no taper ever raised
The blackness of the oubliette,
Whisper, raging and amazed,
How the lethal dish, though set
For Abelard, had missed its way.
They could only watch and pray.
He might yet be graveward sent
With poison in the Sacrament.
And Abelard, the golden tongue
Of student Paris and Corbeil,
Guide of the insurgent young,

Tired of passion and the love that brings
Satiety's unrest, and failing sands
Of life, I thought to cool my burning hands
In this calm twilight of gray Gothic things:
But Love has laughed, and, spreading swifter wings
Than my poor pinions, once again with bands
Of silken strength my fainting heart commands,
And once again he plays on passionate strings.

But thou, my love, my flower, my jewel, set
In a fair setting, help me, or I die,
To bear Love's burden; for that load to share
Is sweet and pleasant, but if lonely I

I DREAMED I wove a shroud of flowers
For one who loved me young,
My playmate in the childish bowers
Where my first songs were sung;
I dreamed the words, I dreamed the flowers,
And thus the dirge was sung. —

" There was a boy, a lovely child,
Who loved me long ago;
I found him in the lonesome wild
Where buds of boyhood blow;
I loved him in the flowering wild,
And laid him in the snow.

" Many years hath he been gone
Where shades of beauty fare;
They are few who think upon
The road that he goes there;

Long and lovely, cool and white,
She lay beside me all the night.

Long and lovely, hushed and warm,
She touched me, thigh and breast and arm.

My body was one tremulous sense
Of her slight body's eloquence.

I was a drowned man, in the sea
Of her immaculate melody.

Drifting slowly down to sleep,
I longed to laugh, I feared to weep.

While hushed and lovely, cool and white,
She lay beside me all the night.

I do not love you, no, nor all your beauty,
Nor have I terror of your delicate magics;
I love only the silence that around you
Makes a low twilight.

Yet I desire that thunderous storms of passion
For all I am, should surge and clamor through you —
Scattering your follies and your delicate secrets —
Shaking your twilight. —

That like a temple-bell across the darkness
I should forever echo in your spirit,
With tones of legend and of high disaster
Haunting your silence.

You shall remember dimly,
Through mists of far-away,
Her whom, our lips set grimly,
We carried forth today.

But when in days hereafter
Unfolding time shall bring
Knowledge of love and laughter
And trust and triumphing —

Then from some face the fairest,
From some most joyous breast,
Garner what there is rarest
And happiest and best —

The youth, the light, the rapture
Of eager April grace —
And in that sweetness, capture
Your mother's far-off face.

And all the mists shall perish

Firelight danced along the uneven walls.
The rooms forgot that they were old and dank.
They caught the music of your light foot-falls,
They echoed with our laughter and our calls,
They blessed the food we ate, the wine we drank—

And they grew human, tender, sweet, and wise.
We loved them as we loved each other, then.
Now they are part of fading memories
As I forget your hands, your breast, your eyes …
But I can love no other home again.

My song is not for the old,
Whose day is done, whose blood is cold;
Nor for the safe is it,
Mummies of wealth and wit;
But it shall be understood
Of youth and the great life-lovers,
Lost adventurers and far rovers,
And the eagles of the brood,—
Evokers of diviner powers
Dark in the ether-wave,
Who heap the couch of life with flowers
And line with love the grave.

There are many things I love, my friends, and many things I hate;
There are things I simply reverence, things I abominate!
And I'd like to tell them all to you, outspoken, frank, and fair;
But 'twould take more time and patience than we've either got to spare.

So we'll drop externals totally, for Nature drew the plan;
We can't change it one iota, nor no other power can!
She placed thorns among the roses, gave the peach its bloom and fuzz,
Some of us made straight, some crooked: " Handsome is that handsome does. "

Lullaby , lullaby, child of the morning,
List to the matin bells hailing the day;
See the sun blithely the cloudlets adorning,
Ere beginning his journey from far down the bay.
Lovingly, tenderly, each cloud caressing
With glances of love-light and fingers of gold,
For each one doth hold for my darling a blessing,
That each hour of the day shall gently unfold.

Lullaby, lullaby, child of the even,
List to the vesper bells closing the day;
See the moon marshal the star-hosts of heaven
Ere beginning her journey from far down the bay.