raise these garden ghosts of memory,
My feet will turn aside from common ways,
Where common flowers mark the common days,
To one green plot; and there I know will be
Fairest of all (O perfect beyond praise!)
The year you gave, beloved, your rosemary.

The Coming of Love

HOW shall I know? Shall I hear Love pass
In the wind that sighs through the poplar tree?
Shall I follow his passing over the grass
By the prisoned scents which his footsteps free?

Shall I wake one day to a sky all blue
And meet with Spring in a crowded street?
Shall I open a door and, looking through,
Find, on a sudden, the world more sweet?

How shall I know?--last night I lay
Counting the hours' dreary sum
With naught in my heart save a wild dismay
And a fear that whispered, "Love is come!"

Premonition

LAST night I dreamed
No dream of joy or sorrow,
Yet, when I woke, I wept,
Knowing the brightness of some far to-morrow
Had darkened while I slept!

The Child

I MAY not lift him in my arms. His face I may not see--
Are angel hands more tender than a mother's hands may be?
And does he smile to hear the song an angel stole from me?

The wise King said, "He cannot come but I will go to him!"
O David! did you seek with words to make the grave less grim?
And did you think to cheat, with words, the jealous seraphim?

So! he will learn of heaven--he, who scarcely knew the earth.
All fullness waits the baby eyes that never looked on dearth--
The mystery of death usurps the mystery of birth!

What light has earth to give me for the light that heaven beguiled?
What is the calm of heaven to him who has not known the wild?--
O, we are both bereft, bereft--the mother and the child!

Intrusion

I BUILT myself a pleasant house.
Content was I to dwell in it--
Its door was fast against the wind
With all the gusty swell of it.

It had two windows, high and clear,
With trees and skies to shine through them,
They were acquainted with the moon,
And every star was mine through them.

Its walls were silent walls; its hearth
Held little fires to gladden me--
And though the nights might weep outside
No sob crept through to sadden me.

Then came your hand upon the latch
(Although I had not sent for you)
And all Outside came blowing in
The way I had not meant it to!

Upon the hearth my tended flame
Leapt to a blaze and died in it.
The night sought out a hidden place
I had