Of birds and blossoms soon.

Subtle though it be,
Yet sweetly sure that word;
E'en such my heart hath heard
(Over life's frosty lea)
Of Immortality.



WINTER GERANIUMS.


O What avails the storm,
When o'er my sense this Magian flower enweaves
His charm of slumbrous summer, green and warm,
And laps me in his luxury of leaves!

O where the frost that chills,
Whilst these rich blooms burn red about my face,
Luring me out across the irised hills
Where Autumn broods o'er purple deeps of space!



A BREATHING TIME.


Here is a breathing time, and rest for a little season.
Here have I drained deep draughts out of the springs of life.