r, westward with the day,
I travel to the far away!

The Dead Bride

WITHIN my circled arm she lay and faintly smiled the long night through,
And oh, but she was fair to view, fair to view!

Upon the whiteness of her robe the dew distilled, and on her veil
And on her cheek of carved pearl that gleamed so pale.

(How still the air is in the night, how near and kind the heavens are,
One might a naked hand outstretch and grasp a star!)

I kissed her heavy, folded hair. I kissed her heavy lids full oft;
Beneath the shining of the stars her eyes shone soft.

"Love, Love!" I said, "the day was long"--"Oh, long indeed," she sighing said.
"I grow so jealous of the sun, since I am dead."

(How sweet the air is in the night, how sweet, sweet, sweet the flowers seem--
But oh, the emptiness of dawn that breaks the dream!)

The Crocus Bed

YELLOW as the noonday sun,
Purple as a day that's done,
White as mist that lingers pale
On the edge of morning's veil,
Delicate as love's first kiss--
Crocuses are just like this.

Ere the robin paints his breast,
Ere the daffodil is drest,
Ere the iris' lovely head
Waves above her perfumed bed
Comes the crocus--and the Spring
Follows after, wing on wing!

Sweet perfection, holding up
Magic dew in topaz cup,
Alabaster, amethyst--
Curling lips which Earth has kissed,
Folded hearts where secrets hide,
Secrets old when Eve was bride!

Beauty's soul was born with wings,
Flight inspires all lovely things--
Would you gather rainbow fire?
See the rose of dawn's desire
Turn to ash beneath the moon?--
Crocuses must leave us soon.

The Vision

"O SISTER, sister, from the casement leaning,
What sees thy tranced eye, what is the meaning
Of the strange rapture that thy features know?"
"I see," she said, "the sunset's crimson glow."

"O sister, sister, from the casement turning,
What saw'st thou there save sunset's sullen burning?
--Thy hand is ice, and fever lights thine eye!"
"I saw," she said, "the twilight drifting by."

"O sister, oft the sun hath set and often
Have we beheld the twilight fold and soften
The edge of day-- In this no mystery lies!"
"I saw," she said, "the crescent moon arise."

"O sister, speak! I fear when on me falleth
Thine empty glance which some wild spell enthralleth!
--How chill the air blows through the open door!"
"I saw," she said, "I saw"--and spake no more.

The Miracle

THERE'S not a leaf upon the tree
T