laughter and the Sunflowers shout.

And many whisper things I dare not tell.

SONG OF THE SEEDLING

TO ARTHUR SEWELL BUTT

Tell, little seedling, murmuring germ,
Why are you joyful? What do you sing?
Have you no fear of that crawling thing,
Him that has so many legs? and the worm?

Rain drops patter above my head--
Drip, drip, drip.
To moisten the mould where my roots are fed--
Sip, sip, sip.
No thought have I of the legged thing.
Of the worm no fear,
When the goal is so near;
Every moment my life has run,
The livelong day I've not ceased to sing:
I must reach the sun, the sun.

LADY EVELYN

I know no Name too sweet to tell of her,
For Love's sweet Sake and Domination.
She hath me all; her Spell hath Power to stir
My Heart to every Lust, and spur me on.
Love saith: 'tis even thus; her Will no Thrall,
But Touchstone of thy Worth in Love's Armure;
They only conquer in Love's Lists that fall,
And Wounds renewed for Wounds are captain Cure.
He doubly is inslaved that gilts his Chain,
Saith Reason, chaffering for his Empire gone,
Bestir, and root the Canker that hath ta'en
Thy Breast for Bed, and feeds thy Heart upon.

I this: Sweet Love, an sweet an sour thou be,
I know no Name too sweet to tell of thee.

COMPLAINT

TO FELIX FENEON

Men, women, call thee so or so;
I do not know.
Thou hast no name
For me, but in my heart aflame

Burns tireless, neath a silver vine.
And round entwine
Its purple girth
All things of fragrance and of worth.

Thou shout! thou burst of light! thou throb
Of pain! thou sob!
Thou like a bar
Of some sonata, heard from far

Through blue-hue'd veils! When in these wise,
To my soul's eyes,
Thy shape appears,
My aching hands are full of tears.

A HALTING SONNET

TO MISS ELLEN TERRY ON HER BIRTHDAY

It is not meet for one like me to praise
A lady, princess, goddess, artist such;
For great ones crane their foreheads to her touch,
To change their splendours into crowns of bays.
But poets never rhyme as they are bid;
Nor never see their ft goal; but aspire,
With straining eyes, to some far silvern spire;
Flowers among, sing to the gods cloud-hid.
One of these, onetime, opened velvet eyes
Upon the world--the years recall the day;
Those lights still shine, conscious of power alway,
But flattering men with feigned looks of surprise.

The couplet is so great that, where thou art,
--Thou