So must he be who, in the crowded street,
Where shameless Sin and flaunting Pleasure meet,
Amid the noisome footprints finds the sweet
Faint vestige of Thy feet.

A. Maidenhood, maidenhood, whither art thou gone from me?
B. Never again will I come to thee, never again .

In the fifth month,
When orange trees
Fill all the world with scent,
I think of the sleeve
Of a girl who loved me.

Of some unknown to-morrow, well I knew
That I must tread the universal way.
Yet did I never know, to feel it true,
That that to-morrow e'er could be to-day.

To gather simples on the hills, I took
The mountain path upon an April day,
But o'er the earth the laughing cherries shook
Such snow of blossom that I lost my way.

What longing fills my heart
When at the meeting of the ways that tread
The shadow of orange-trees
I meet not with my love!

How the great moon crushes the cloud!
How its witchlike glimmer
Weaves webs that shroud
Now the sea, now the land,
Now every grain of the great sea's sand,
Till like gems they shimmer and shimmer!

Not yet, O hill! high hill of autumn, scatter
Red leaves and gold athwart the distant view.
Let me gaze on, a little instant longer,
Where she I love leans towards me through the blue!

Within my bosom stirs once more to-night
A voice of song. Love, erstwhile slumbering,
Intones his mystery, and the flowers of spring
Relive and bloom. Winter, forbear to smite
My heart's late flowers. Listen! From left and right
Through the green boughs the bulbul's note is heard,
And, wing-clipt and imprisoned, my heart's bird
Flutters against his barriers, wild for flight.

Boast not of having no pride, because it is more invisible
Than the mark of an ant's foot on a black rock in a dark night;
Think it not easy to extirpate it from thy heart
For it is more easy to root up a mountain from the earth with a needle.