When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep, Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes, The meadow-larks will know, And pipe the three words lightly To all the winds that blow. Above his roof the swallows, In notes like far-blown rain, Will tell the little sparrow Beside his window-pane. O sparrow, little sparrow, When I am fast asleep, Then tell my love the secret That I have died to keep.
This poem is in the public domain.
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
This poem is in the public domain.
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
This poem is in the public domain.
They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before,— Oh, they were blind, too blind to see Your faults had made me love you more.
This poem is in the public domain.