I do not love you Thursday--
So much is true.

And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.
I loved you Wednesday,--yes--but what
Is that to me?


To the Not Impossible Him

How shall I know, unless I go
To Cairo and Cathay,
Whether or not this blessed spot
Is blest in every way?

Now it may be, the flower for me
Is this beneath my nose;
How shall I tell, unless I smell
The Carthaginian rose?

The fabric of my faithful love
No power shall dim or ravel
Whilst I stay here,--but oh, my dear,
If I should ever travel!


Macdougal Street

As I went walking up and down to take the evening air,