The Concise Verse

Still as  On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.

The calm,  Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss. 

Visible, invisible, A fluctuating charm, An amber-colored amethyst Inhabits it; your arm Approaches, and It opens and It closes; You have meant To catch it, And it shrivels; You abandon Your intent— It opens, and it Closes and you Reach for it— The blue Surrounding it Grows cloudy, and It floats away From you.

The net of law is spread so wide, No sinner from its sweep may hide. Its meshes are so fine and strong, They take in every child of wrong. O wondrous web of mystery! Big fish alone escape from thee!

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day.  Nothing gold can stay.

Thy feet are white Upon the foam of the sea; Hold me fast, thou bright Swan, Lest I stumble, And into deep waters.

Thy feet, That are like little, silver birds, Thou hast set upon pleasant ways; Therefore I will follow thee, Thou Dove of the Golden Eyes, Upon any path will I follow thee, For the light of thy beauty Shines before me like a torch.

THE dying need but little, dear,—      A glass of water's all, A flower's unobtrusive face      To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,      And certainly that one No color in the rainbow      Perceives when you are gone.

Avenues of dreams Boulevards of pain Moving black streams Shimmering like rain.

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear,— Swift be thy flight!

This lovely flower fell to seed;  Work gently, sun and rain; She held it as her dying creed That she would grow again.

I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?

Above the quiet dock in mid night, Tangled in the tall mast's corded height, Hangs the moon. What seemed so far away Is but a child's balloon, forgotten after play.

ANY color, so long as it's red, Is the color that suits me best, Though I will allow there is much to be said For yellow and green and the rest; But the feeble tints which some affect In the things they make or buy Have never—I say it with all respect— Appealed to my critical eye.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars...

Love on his errand bound to go  Can swim the flood and wade through snow, Where way is none, 't will creep and wind And eat through Alps its home to find.

The Scorpion is as black as soot, He dearly loves to bite; He is a most unpleasant brute To find in bed, at night.

Love built a stately house, where Fortune came, And spinning fancies, she was heard to say That her fine cobwebs did support the frame, Whereas they were supported by the same; But Wisdom quickly swept them all away.

The half-moon westers low, my love, And the wind brings up the rain; And wide apart lie we, my love, And seas between the twain. I know not if it rains, my love, In the land where you do lie; And oh, so sound you sleep, my love, You know no more than I.

Down in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.   And yet it was a lovely flower, Its colours bright and fair; It might have graced a rosy bower, Instead of hiding there,   Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed; And there diffused its sweet perfume, Within the silent shade.   Then let me to the valley go, This...

The dawn was apple-green, The sky was green wine held up in the sun, The moon was a golden petal between. She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers undone, For the first time, now for the first time seen.

Twin stars through my purpling pane, The shriveling husk Of a yellowing moon on the wane - And the dusk.

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. And into my garden stole When the nigh...

See, yonder, the belfry tower That gleams in the moon's pale light; Or is it a ghostly flower That dreams in the silent night? I listen and hear the chime         Go quavering o'er the town, And out of this flower of Time Twelve petals are wafted down.

Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow. I love creation better as it stood That day You finished it so long ago And looked upon Your work and called it good. I know that others find You in the light That's sifted down through tinted window panes, And yet I seem to feel You near tonight In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.