ring,
And lay thy long, soft locks where my heart is.

THE CONQUEROR

O Spring, that flutter'st the slow Winter by,
To drop thy buds before his frosty feet,
Dost thou not grieve to see thy darlings lie
In trodden death, and weep their beauty sweet?
Yet must thou cast thy tender offering,
And make thy way above thy mourned dead,
Or frowning Winter would be always king,
And thou wouldst never walk with crowned head.
So gentle Love must make his venturous way
Among the shaken buds of his own pain;
And many a hope-blown garland meekly lay
Before the chilly season of disdain;
But as no beauty may the Spring outglow,
So he, when throned, no greater lord doth know.

TO MOINA

There were no heaven but for lovers' eyes;
Save in their depths do all Elysiums fade;
And gods were dead but for the life that lies
In kisses sweet on sweeter altars laid.
There were no heroes did not lovers ride,
And pyramid high deeds upon new time;
Nor tale for feast, or field, or chimney-side,
And harps were dumb and song had ne'er a rhyme.
Then live, proud heart, in happy fealty,
Nor sigh thee more thy dear bonds to remove;
Thou art not thrall to liege of mean degree,
For all are kings who bear the lance of love;
No wight so poor but may his tatters lose,
And find his purple if his lady choose.

"THERE'S ROSEMARY"

O love that is not love, but dear, so dear!
That is not love because it goes so soon,
Like flower born and dead within one moon,
And yet is love for that it comes full near
The guarded fane where love alone may peer,
Ere like young Spring by Summer soon outshone,
It trembles into death, but comes anon,
As thoughts of Spring will come though Summer's here.

O star full sweet, though one arose more fair,
Within my heart I'll keep a heaven for thee
Where thou mayst freely come and freely go,
Touching with thy pale gold the twilight air
Where dream-closed buds could never flower show,
Yet fragrant keep the shadowy way for me.

AT THE GRAVE OF HEINE

South-heart of song
In winter drest,
Death mends thy wrong;
That is life's best.

Bird, who didst sing
From a bare bough,
Call, and what Spring
Will answer