Hic Yet surely there are men who have made their art Out of no tragic war; lovers of life, Impulsive men, that look for happiness, And sing when they have found it. Ille No, not sing, For those that love the world serve it in action, Grow rich, popular, and full of influence; And...
I am in love with high far-seeing places That look on plains half-sunlight and half-storm, In love with hours when from the circling faces Veils pass, and laughing fellowship glows warm. You who look on me with grave eyes where rapture And...Read More
When late I heard the trembling cello play, In every face I read sad memories That from dark, secret chambers where they lay Rose, and looked forth from melancholy eyes. So every mournful thought found there a tone To match despondence: sorrow knew its mate; Ill fortune sighed, and mute despair...Read More