Dear child, in whose veins beat
The marching centuries of lovers' feet,
All those brave, ardent ghosts in you arise--
The souls who, loving beauty, gave you birth,
With a chain of passion binding beauty to earth,
A captured dream--these souls breathe with your breath
Living again in beauty that knows no death.

To Helen

Lie still in my arms, little four-years-old,
Little bud that glows
With more beauty and passion than it can hold,
Little flaming rose,

The spring's red blossoms, when winter lies deep
On a wind-swept world
Of tossing branches, lie safely asleep
In brown buds curled.

They wake--and the wind strips their petals away
And spills them afar--
Can I keep you from blooming, whatever I say,
Wild bud that you are!

The Immortal

Child of a love denied, a dream unborn,
Spirit more brave
Than passion's unfulfilment, wiser than fate--