It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.
You will recognize your own path when you come upon it because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need.
I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough; And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now.
I saw a star slide down the sky Blinding the north as it went by Too buring and too quick to hold Too lovely to be bought or sold Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone
No one worth possessing can quite be possessed
Love in my heart is a cry forever Lost as the swallow's flight, Seeking for you and never, never Stilled by the stars at night
The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you.
I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies-- You are my deepening skies; Give me your stars to hold
Life is but thought.
Autumn Dusk I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from being mine.
At Night Love said, "Wake still and think of me," Sleep, "Close your eyes till break of day," But Dreams came by and smilingly Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.
My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy
Look for a lovely thing and you will find it, it is not far, it never will be far
For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
In my heart's most secret place, I pity them as angels do.
Never fear the thing you feel-- Only by love is life made real
Let me remember you, soon will the winter be on us, Snow-hushed and heartless.
Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me
I have no riches but my thoughts, Yet these are wealth enough for me
What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, That my songs do not show me at all? For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, I am an answer, they are only a call
Oh I must pass nothing by Without loving it much, The raindrop try with my lips, The grass with my touch; For how can I be sure I shall see again The world on the first of May Shining after the rain?
I almost gave my life long ago for a thing That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes— It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.
And when you spoke to me, I did not know That to my life's high altar came its priest.
