She is neither pink nor pale,

Blight
Hard seeds of hate I planted

When the Year Grows Old
I cannot but remember

Sonnets

I
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs, -- no,

II
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

III
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,

IV
Not in this chamber only at my birth --

V
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,

VI Bluebeard
This door you might not open, and you did;