Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand. I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold - It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old. Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose.

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes.

For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had.

I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim, The god is bitter and will have it so.

See, Winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad.

A winter's day In a deep and dark December I am alone.

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.