Let me but dream
That the long fields gleam
With sunlight and song,
Then I shall not long
For the light of stars.

Let me but dream,--
For there are no stars,--
Dream that the ache
And the wild heart-break
Are but things that seem.
Ah! let me dream
For there are no stars.




Revulsion.

I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam
In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,
The blessed April air blows soft and cool,
Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,
And we forget that close around us lie
A city's poor, a city's misery.

Of every outward vision there is some
Internal counterpart. To-day I know
The blessedness of living, and the glow
Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come