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Edith Nesbit

Song IV

I HEAR the waves to-night
Piteously calling, calling
Though the light
Of the kind moon is falling,
Like kisses, on the sea
That calls for sunshine, dear, as my soul calls for thee.

I see the sea lie gray
Wrinkling her brows in sorrow,
Hear her say:--
'Bright love of yesterday, return to-morrow,
Sun, I am thine, am thine!'
Oh sea, thy love will come again, but what of mine?

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Song VI

'LOVE me little, love me long,'
Is the burden of my song,
And if nothing more may be
Little shall suffice for me.

But if you could crown with flowers
All my radiant, festal hours,
And console for hours of sorrow
Love me more with each to-morrow.

And if you would turn my days
To one splendid hymn of praise,
And set hopes like stars above me
Love me much, and always love me!

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As It Is

If you and I
Had wings to fly -
Great wings like seagulls' wings -
How would we soar
Above the roar
Of loud unneeded things!

We two would rise
Through changing skies
To blue unclouded space,
And undismayed
And unafraid
Meet the sun face to face.

But wings we know not;
The feathers grow not
To carry us so high;
And low in the gloom
Of a little room
We weep and say good-bye.

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From The Tuscan

WHEN in the west the red sun sank in glory,
The cypress trees stood up like gold, fine gold;
The mother told her little child the story
Of the gold trees the heavenly gardens hold.

In golden dreams the child sees golden rivers,
Gold trees, gold blossoms, golden boughs and leaves,
Without, the cypress in the night wind shivers,
Weeps with the rain and with the darkness grieves.

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The Tree Of Knowledge

I PLUCKED the blossoms of delight
In many a wood and many a field,
I made a garland fair and bright
As any gardens yield.

But when I sought the living tree
To make new earth and Heaven new,
I found--alas for you and me--
Its roots were set in you.

Oh, dear my garden, where the fruit
Of lovely knowledge sweetly springs,
How jealously you guard the root
Of all enlightening things!

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Questions

What do the roses do, mother,
Now that the summer's done?
They lie in the bed that is hung with red
And dream about the sun.

What do the lilies do, mother,
Now that there's no more June?
Each one lies down in her white nightgown
And dreams about the moon.

What can I dream of, mother,
With the moon and the sun away?
Of a rose unborn, of an untried thorn,
And a lily that lives a day!

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To One Who Bade Him Work

EACH day Work bids my heart anew,
Fold wings and watch my brain at play;
But brain and heart will fly your way,
And find their natural home in you!
Come to me--'tis the only way!


For heart and brain have had to learn
Such carrier-pigeon feats of flight,
That were you here, my heart's delight,
My brain and heart to Work would turn,
Spread wings, and flutter from your sight.

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Not Now, When Skies Are Gold And Blue

And you have me and I have you,
When there are roses all the way,
And April days and nights of May,
And life is joy the whole day long--
Not now can passion flower in song.


But in the dark days by-and-by,
When, deep divided, you and I,
Shivering among the rose-thorns bare,
At last confess what fools we were;
Then, neatly wired, a nosegay fine
Shall deck your heart--O heart of mine!

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Winter

Hold your hands to the blaze;
Winter is here
With the short cold days,
Bleak, keen and drear.
Was there ever a day
With hawthorn along the way
Where you wandered in mild mid-May
With your dear?

That was when you were young
And the world was gold;
Now all the songs are sung,
The tales all told.
You shiver now by the fire
Where the last red sparks expire;
Dead are delight and desire:
You are old.

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The December Rose

Here's a rose that blows for Chloe,
Fair as ever a rose in June was,
Now the garden's silent, snowy,
Where the burning summer noon was.

In your garden's summer glory
One poor corner, shelved and shady,
Told no rosy, radiant story,
Grew no rose to grace its lady.

What shuts sun out shuts out snow too;
From his nook your secret lover
Shows what slighted roses grow to
When the rose you chose is over.

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