The roses of love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad he...
Draw not away thy hands, my love,
With wind alone the branches move,
And though the leaves be scant
The Autumn shall not shame us
Like a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruin'd well, Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell; And now he hangs his ag{'e}d head aslant, And listens for a human sound—in vain
And now the aid, which Heave...
From love's first fever to her plague, from the soft
And to the hollow minute of the womb,
From the unfolding to the scissored caul,
The time for breast and the green apron
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth
Fuel to maintain his fires:
By the road of
In the three-part shadow of troubled sleepI come to you the double the multipleas like you as the era of deltas
Your head is as tiny as
The nearby sea reigns with
I have no gold, no lands, no robes of splendor,
No crowd of sycophants to siege my door;
But fortune in one thing at least is tender--For Psyche loves me
Could I ask for more
VE's torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy