You were the dear first-born
Of Hope and Spring!




Presence


BY a sense of Presence, keenly dear,
I, who thought her distant,
Knew her near.

By an echo that most sweetly woke,
I, long keyed to silence,
Knew she spoke.

By her nearness and the word she said,
I, who thought her living,
Knew her dead.




In an Autumn Garden


TO-NIGHT the air discloses
Souls of a million roses,
And ghosts of hyacinths that died too soon;