Laughing you loved them, childlike you said,
"Oh, but this is the part--!" Almost I reproved them
Drawing you from me, minds long dead.

Yet forever your voice, wraith that was rapture!
What great-souled spaces the while you read
Joy--pain--mirth--all I would capture,--
Dickens and Browning--your bended head ...

Heaven of lamplight I long for lonely
Where all the folk of their fancy tread;
Three small faces, and mine,--and only
Dickens and Browning--your bended head!


WHEN

It is when the trees have such radiant flowers,
Such white and rosy showers,
Such fragrant whispering,--
It is when the sun lights such mellow, yellow hours,--
_For lovers love the Spring!_

It is when the moon is so pale and drifting,
Blossoms softly sifting
From the vines that climb and cling,
That my heart will stop to hear love's laughter lifting,--
_For lovers love the Spring!_

It is when the long evenings, their haze of violet wearing,