Madrigal
Rare garden where my heart goes gatheringMany a lovely and delightful thing,Pale roses of your body and the fairUnrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair!
Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace,And O the wistful flower of your face!And all the soft and starry mysteriesOf those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . .
O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade,And bless this garden that the gods have made . . .Rare garden where my heart goes gatheringMany a lovely and delightful thing . . .
Endymion
Your hair was like a honey-coloured flameSeen through a veil of silver when you cameAnd took me in your arms that winter night . . .The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair,Toyed with it softly, as a woman mightWith some bright treasure, delicate and rare.
O, young Endymion, risen from the dead,Born once again to beauty, O bright head!The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old;Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl,With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . .But you have left her for a mortal girl.
Dance Song
O hide your passion from the moon.When young and slender she appearsIn shining gown and silver shoon . . .And, all her path with stars impearled,She dances round the darkened world.
O hide your sorrows from the sun . . .The sun should never see your tears!Weep, if you will, when day is done . . .But laugh and sing and clap your handsWhile yet the sun in heaven stands.
A Memory
O how I loved you when we metFor that one moment of the day!Yes, loved you desperately, and yetCould scarcely find a word to say—No wonder that you looked and smiledAs though upon some timid child.You never guessed, how could you guessThat I adored your loveliness!
You never saw the prisoned soulBehind the windows of my eyes,Frantic to break from fate's controlAnd charm you with her flatteries . . .And show you, your cold heart to move,The shining treasure of her love,And worship in a long embrace,The reckless beauty of your face!
You never knew . . . and the dream diedA broken rose beneath your feet . . .You went your way . . . the world is wideAnd I forgot, for youth is sweet . . .Yet when at night I lie awake,My heart is sad for a dream's sake,And I remember and regret . . .O how I loved you when we met!
The Photograph
O Beauty, what is this?A shadow of your face . . .Where is the wild flower graceThat Love is wont to kiss?
Where is the bird that bringsTo your untroubled eyesThe blue of fairy skies,The flash of fairy wings? . . .
O wild bird of delight,That no white hand may hold,Or fairest cage of gold . . .For who would stay its flight?
The song-bird of your voiceWhose magic song Love hears,Trembling behind your tears,Trilling when you rejoice . . .
O Beauty, what is this?The shadow of a rose . . .A little ghost that goesOblivious of Love's kiss.
Only a shadow . . . yetIt may, in some dark hourRecall the living flower . . .If haply Love forget.
St. Sebastian
So beautiful in all thine agony!So radiant in thine infinite despair . . .Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . .Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree:What brutal fools were those that gave to theeRed roses of thine outraged blood to wear,Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fairBruised flower of thy victorious purity?
Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world,How all Love's arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet!And wound the white perfection of thy youth!How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurledAgainst thy sorrow when thou darest to meetWith martyrdom men's mockery of the truth!
The Magic Mirrors
In the dim mirrors of imagination,I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . .I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . .See how she takes innumerable disguises,And hides her beauty behind many masks,And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing,. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . .But not one mirror has betrayed her voice,Or shown to me the secret of her face . . .O silent dance of sorrow and delight,My heart grown tired with watching, turns away,To make perhaps a little passionate songOut of the shadows of immortal things . . .