I Had A Little Sorrow, Born Of

Love Is Not All: It Is Not Meat Nor Drink Nor Slumber Nor A Roof Against The Rain; Nor Yet A Floating Spar To Men That Sink.

I Would I Were Alive Again To Kiss The Fingers Of The Rain, To Drink Into My Eyes The Shine Of Every Slanting Silver Line, To Catch The Freshened, Fragrant Breeze From Drenched And Dripping Apple-trees. For Soon The Shower Will Be Done, And Then The Broad Face Of The Sun Will Laugh Above The Rain-soaked Earth Until The World With Answering Mirth Shakes Joyously, And Each Round Drop Rolls Twinkling, From Its Grass-blade Top.

O Troubled Forms, O Early Love Unfortunate And Hard, Time Has Estranged You Into A Jewel Cold And Pure

But Far, Oh, Far As Passionate Eye Can Reach, And Long, Ah, Long As Rapturous Eye Can Cling, The World Is Mine: Blue Hill, Still Silver Lake, Broad Field, Bright Flower, And The Long White Road A Gateless Garden, And An Open Path: My Feet To Follow, And My Heart To Hold.

Beautiful As A Dandelion-blossom Golden In The Green Grass, This Life Can Be.