About the room where perfumes of Her stray.

What is this sudden quiet cradling me
To that dim ditty's dreamy rise and fall?
What do you want with me, pale melody?
What is it that you want, ghost musical
That fade toward the window waveringly
A little open on the garden small?

[Illustration: "Le Piano Que Baise Une Main Frele"]

Oh, heavy, heavy my despair,
Because, because of One so fair.

My misery knows no allay,
Although my heart has come away.

Although my heart, although my soul,
Have fled the fatal One's control.

My misery knows no allay,
Although my heart has come away.

My heart, the too, too feeling one,
Says to my soul, "Can it be done,

"Can it be done, too feeling heart,
That we from her shall live apart?"

My soul says to my heart, "Know I
What this strange pitfall should imply,

"That we, though far from her, are near,
Yea, present, though in exile here?"

Le rossignol qui du haut d'une branche se regarde
dedans, croit etre tombe dans la riviere. Il est au sommet
d'un chene, et toutefois il a peur de se noyer.
CYRANO DE BERGERAC.

The trees' reflection in the misty stream
Dies off in livid steam;
Whilst up among the actual boughs, forlorn,
The tender wood-doves mourn.

How wan the face, O traveller, this wan
Gray landscape looked upon;
And how forlornly in the high tree-tops
Lamented thy drowned hopes!

Paysages Belges

BRUXELLES

Hills and fences hurry by
Blent in greenish-rosy flight,
And the yellow carriage-light
Blurs all to the half-shut eye.

Slowly turns the gold to red
O'er the humble darkening vales;
Little trees that flatly spread,
Where some feeble birdling wails.

Scarcely sad, so mild and fair
This enfolding Autumn seems;
All my moody languor dreams,
Cradled by the gentle air.

Birds in the Night

I
You were not over-patient with me, dear;
This want of patience one must rightly rate:
You are so young! Youth ever was severe
And variable and inconsiderate!

You had not all the needful kindness, no;
Nor should one be amazed, unhappily:
You're very young, cold sister mine, and so
'Tis