porch seems. A dreary chill
Creeps upward from the river at twilight,
And yet, I like to linger here at night,
And dream the summer tarries with us still.

The summer and the summer guests, or guest.
(Men rarely dream in plurals.) Over there
Beyond the pillars, stands the rustic chair,
As bare and empty as a robin's nest.

No pretty head reclines its golden bands
Against the back. No playful winds disclose
Distracting glimpses of embroidered hose:
No palm leaf waves in dainty, dangerous hands.

How cold it is! That star up yonder gleams
A white ice sickle from the heavenly eaves.
That bleak wind from the river sighs and grieves,
Perchance o'er some poor fellow's broken dreams.

Come in, and shut the door, and leave that star
To watch above the lonely portico.
Summer and summer guests and dreams must go.
Well, Fate was kind to leave me my cigar.

WHEN MY SWEET LADY SINGS

When she, my lady, smiles,
I feel as one who, lost in darksome wilds,
Sees suddenly the sun in middle sky
Shining upon him like a great glad eye.
When my sweet lady smiles.

When she, my lady laughs,
I feel as one who some elixir quaffs;
Some nameless nectar, made of wines of suns,
And through my veins a subtle iveresse runs.
When my sweet lady laughs.

And when my lady talks,
I am as one who by a brooklet walks,
Some sweet-tongued brooklet, which the whole long day,
Holds converse with the birds along the way.
When my loved lady talks.

And when my lady sings,
Oh then I hear the beat of silver wings;
All that is earthly from beneath me slips,
And in the liquid cadence of her lips
I float, so near the Infinite, I seem
Lost in the glory of a white starred dream.
When my sweet lady sings.

SPECTRES

How terrible these nights are when alone
With our scarred hearts, we sit in solitude,
And some old sorrow, to the world unknown,
Does suddenly with silent steps intrude.

After the guests departed, and the light
Burned dimly in my room, there came to me,
As noiselessly as shadows of the night,
The spectre of a woe that used to be.

Out of the gruesome darkness and the gloom
I saw it peering; and, in still despair,
I watched it gliding swift across the room,
Until it came and stood beside my chair.

Why, need I tell thee what its shape or name?
Thou hast thy secret hidden from the light:
And be it sin or sorrow, woe or shame,
Thou dost not l