"O lovely chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul, But by your grace, still I am whole."

"It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks."

"But you I never understood, Your spirit's secret hides like gold Sunk in a Spanish galleon Ages ago in waters cold."

"I should be glad of loneliness And hours that go on broken wings, A thirsty body, a tired heart And the unchanging ache of things, If I could make a single song As lovely and as full of light, As hushed and brief as a falling star On a winter night."

"I try to catch at many a tune Like petals of light fallen from the moon, Broken and bright on a dark lagoon,But they float away — for who can hold Youth, or perfume or the moon's gold?"

"But I will turn my eyes from you As women turn to put away The jewels they have worn at night And cannot wear in sober day."

"Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be."

"Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup."

"I have grown weary of the winds of heaven. I will not be a reed to hold the sound Of whatsoever breath the gods may blow, Turning my torment into music for them. They gave me life; the gift was bountiful, I lived with the swift singing strength of fire, Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel — Beauty in all things and in every hour. The gods have given life — I gave them song; The debt is paid and now I turn to go."

"How should they know that Sappho lived and died Faithful to love, not faithful to the lover, Never transfused and lost in what she loved, Never so wholly loving nor at peace."

"But oh, to him I loved Who loved me not at all, I owe the little open gate That led thru heaven's wall."

"I lift my heart as spring lifts up A yellow daisy to the rain; My heart will be a lovely cup Altho' it holds but pain. For I shall learn from flower and leaf That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold."

"When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough, And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now."

"I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies,— You are my deepening skies, Give me your stars to hold."

"Oh, beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love?"

"Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. Oh, beauty are you not enough?"

"The greenish sky glows up in misty reds, The purple shadows turn to brick and stone, The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds, And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone."

"I hope that when he smiles at me He does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kind To ever look my way again."

"There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything — Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring."

"With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the street-lamps' flare — But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union Square."

"For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had."

"Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand. I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold — It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old.Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose."

"I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes."

"I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim, The god is bitter and will have it so."

"Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love — But you will not assuage him. He alone Of all the gods will take no gifts from men."

"All this grows bitter that was once so sweet, And many mouths must drain the dregs of it. But none will pity me, nor pity him Whom Love so lashed, and with such cruel thongs."

"We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine, To think upon her sorrows, but her joys What nun could ever know a tithing of? The precious hours she watched above His sleep Were worth the fearful anguish of the end. Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all."

"Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, God's daughter, powerful as God, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace."

"And as I played, a child came thro' the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho' he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me."

"My dreams are over, I have ceased to cry Against the fate that made men love my mouth And left their spirits all too deaf to hear The little songs that echoed through my soul. I have no anger now. The dreams are done; Yet since the Greeks and Trojans would not see Aught but my body's fairness, till the end, In all the islands set in all the seas, And all the lands that lie beneath the sun, Till light turn darkness, and till time shall sleep, Men's lives shall waste with longing after me, For I shall be the sum of their desire, The whole of beauty, never seen again."

"This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead That sparkled so the day I saw it first, And darkened slowly after. I am she Who loves all beauty — yet I wither it."

"No one worth possessing Can be quite possessed."

"Why so pale and wan, fond lover Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? ... Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she cannot love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!"

"She's a savour to the glass, An excuse to make it pass."

"But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out; For when I think I'm best resolv'd, I then am most in doubt."

"I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine?"

"Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place."

"Out upon it! I have lov'd Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.Time shall moult away his wings, Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover."

"Her lips were red; and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly)."

"Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison (Who sees them is undone); For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Catherine pear (The side that's next the sun)."

"Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they fear'd the light: But O, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight."

"The maid—and thereby hangs a tale; For such a maid no Whitson-ale Could ever yet produce: No grape, that’s kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft as she, Nor half so full of juice."

"They who know all the wealth they have, are poor; He's only rich that cannot tell his store."

"Women enjoy'd (whate'er before th' have been) Are like romances read, or sights once seen: Fruition's dull, and spoils the play much more Than if one read or knew the plot before. 'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were."

"If I a fancy take To black and blue, That fancy doth it beauty make."

"O! for some honest lover's ghost, Some kind unbodied post Sent from the shades below! I strangely long to know, Whether the nobler chaplets wear, Those that their mistress' scorn did bear, Or those that were us'd kindly."

"Sure Beauty's empires, like to greater states, Have certain periods set, and hidden fates."

"I thought to undermine the heart By whispering in the ear."

"'Tis now, since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent), a year and more, And still I did my part."

"Love is the fart Of every heart; It pains a man when 'tis kept close, And others doth offend when 'tis let loose."