The empty ruins, lapsed again
     Into Nature’s wide domain,
     Sow themselves with seed and grain
       As Day and Night and Day go by;
     And hoard June’s sun and April’s rain.

     Here fresh funeral tears were shed;
     Now the graves are also dead;
     And suckers from the ash-tree spread,
       While Day and Night and Day go by;
     And stars move calmly overhead.

From ‘Day and Night Songs.’

     THE WINTER PEAR

     Is always Age severe? 
       Is never Youth austere? 
       Spring-fruits are sour to eat;
       Autumn’s the mellow time. 
     Nay, very late in the year,
       Short day and frosty rime,
     Thought, like a winter pear,
       Stone-cold in summer’s prime,
     May turn from harsh to sweet.

From ‘Ballads and Songs.’

     SONG

     O spirit of the Summer-time! 
       Bring back the roses to the dells;
     The swallow from her distant clime,
       The honey-bee from drowsy cells.

     Bring back the friendship of the sun;
       The gilded evenings calm and late,
     When weary children homeward run,
       And peeping stars bid lovers wait.

     Bring back the singing; and the scent
       Of meadow-lands at dewy prime;
     Oh, bring again my heart’s content,
       Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!

From ‘Day and Night Songs.’

     THE BUBBLE

     See the pretty planet! 
       Floating sphere! 
     Faintest breeze will fan it
       Far or near;

     World as light as feather;
       Moonshine rays,
     Rainbow tints together,
       As it plays.

     Drooping, sinking, failing,
       Nigh to earth,
     Mounting, whirling, sailing,
       Full of mirth;

     Life there, welling, flowing,
       Waving round;
     Pictures coming, going,
       Without sound.

     Quick now, be this airy
       Globe repelled! 
     Never can the fairy
       Star be held.

     Touched—­it in a twinkle
       Disappears! 
     Leaving but a sprinkle,
       As of tears.

From ‘Ballads and Songs.’

ST. MARGARET’S EVE

I built my castle upon the seaside,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Half on the land and half in the tide,
Love me true!

Within was silk, without was stone,
The waves roll so gayly O,
It lacks a queen, and that alone,
Love me true!

The gray old harper sang to me,
The waves roll so gayly O,
“Beware of the Damsel of the Sea!”
Love me true!

Saint Margaret’s Eve it did befall,
The waves roll so gayly O,
The tide came creeping up the wall,
Love me true!

I opened my gate; who there should stand—­
The waves roll so gayly O,
But a fair lady, with a cup in her hand,
Love me true!