SIRVENTE
This summer eve
A sad coquette must be—
She wears such dainty pink, and for the patch
On a court-lady's cheek displays
The crescent moon.
A sad coquette must be—
She wears such dainty pink, and for the patch
On a court-lady's cheek displays
The crescent moon.
And when she hears
How loverlike the wind
Goes sighing—then how slyly glimmers like
The dimple near a maiden's lip
One tiny star.
How loverlike the wind
Goes sighing—then how slyly glimmers like
The dimple near a maiden's lip
One tiny star.
THE PRIESTESS
I built
My altar-fire
With myrrh and sandalwood,
Hoping some bright-haired god and strong
Would come.
My altar-fire
With myrrh and sandalwood,
Hoping some bright-haired god and strong
Would come.
There flew
From night and storm
And sank upon my breast
Wet-winged and spent with aimless flight
A dove—
From night and storm
And sank upon my breast
Wet-winged and spent with aimless flight
A dove—
AN OLD GARDEN
Foxgloves wax-white,
Pale yellow columbines,
African daisies with their velvet hearts
Rimmed twice around with fiery gold,
And peonies—
Pale yellow columbines,
African daisies with their velvet hearts
Rimmed twice around with fiery gold,
And peonies—
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