ness of familiar eyes!

Ay, should our magic straightly wake
Atlantis from her sea-rocked sleep
And we on some Processional
Look down where dancing maidens leap,
If one flushed maid
Beside us stayed
To tie more firm her loosened braid--
Would not the shaking wonder be
To find her just like you and me?

Indifference

A BIRD, a wild-flower and a tree--
I care for them, not they for me.

I see all heaven in a pool--
But the frog there takes me for a fool.

To this dead thrush a tear I gave--
All Spring shall sing above my grave,

And naught I spend my heart upon
Know lack or loss that I am gone--

A bird, a wild-flower and a tree,
I cherish them; they suffer me!

Last Things

THERE is no one to do it for me,
But I know what I shall do
When the last dawn breaks o'er me
And the last night is through.

I shall set in pleasant order
The little books I knew,
With flowers on the window ledge
In a shallow bowl of blue.

I'll leave the out door swinging,
(As it might swing for you)
And on the clean swept door-sill
Wild roses I shall strew--

So when pale Death comes trailing
Her branch of sodden rue
She'll gather up my gay content
And know contentment too!

Callous Cupid

CUPID does not care for sighs
Does not care for lover's weeping!
Fair One, dry your pretty eyes,
Cupid does not care for sighs,
Laugh with him if you are wise,
Steel the heart he has in keeping;
Cupid does not care for sighs
Does not care for lover's weeping!

The Meeting

SHE flitted by me on the stair--
A moment since I knew not of her.
A look, a smile--she passed! but where
She flitted by me on the stair
Joy cradled exquisite despair;
For who am I that I should love her?
She flitted by me on the stair--
A moment since I knew not of her!

The Piper

I'VE heard the pipes of Pan
Somewhere, just beyond,--
Over the edge of dawn, I think,
Where the clouds hang soft on the world's dim brink,
Where the red suns rise and the blue stars sink,
I heard the pipes of Pan!

Hush! what you heard was the wind,
The feet of the wind through the leaves,
Or the sigh of the waking night as it stirred.
Or a bird's note afar,
Or the deep breath of June,
Or the fall of a star,
Or the shimmering skirts of the sea-slipping tide
In the wake of the wandering moon!

Nay! 'twas the pipes of Pan!
Somewhere--just beyond--
My soul awoke with a rapturous sigh
(Would I wake my soul fo