"The sunshine falls on one brown head. "When God to all His paladins Had Sappho Lived. NAY, take the gold I offer, I am old And blind, but I have looked upon Love's face Yet once I ran as happy maidens run, And climbed the windy hill, and searched the lea For garlands, till Love burned away my heart. And then I sang no more, nor sought the sun, Nor listened to the ever-singing sea, But sat by grey-leaved willows all apart. Till through the willows whispering in rain There came a voice that cried: "Is all Life told And counted naught because Love shuts one Then reached I for my harp and sang again, And of my grief made gladness for the poor. The watching shepherds sing my words at night; To make them songs. Now am I old and blind, But knows not what's to seek or what's to find. So take my gift, and round your slender throat His eyes shall find your fairness grown more His hands shall find the jewels that denote Your beauty's worth; his heart shall find both dear, Love Nor ever know which holds him closer there. goes about the earth in many a guise: Ask not too closely of the name he bears When he shall pause beside your open gate. Stretch forth your hands and question not his eyes. The way is long for whoso lonely fares, And bare the singly woven web of Fate. The poor refuse not bread, the thirsty wine; And mortals pay the debt from heaven due. The Song in the Valley. How softly comes the night. The thousand fires Yet sometimes, through the sleepy valley's peace, In Honour's hall and drink the heroes' wine. And now the journey ends, and we have won No kingdom; yet not quite uncrowned we go: For love was ours and all the songs Love sings, The dreams that those who love not cannot know. Since everything must pass and we must passWe have seen the world and played it in our parts Give me your hand and draw me through the porch Of sleep, the sanctuary of pilgrim hearts. Old-Fashioned Love. LOVE is a baron with counties seven, (And I ride abroad in the rosy morn, I knelt at his throne; I swore to his oath ; And my ears ring yet with the plighted troth. (Tira-la-la through the bladed corn!) I folded my hands between his hands, I kissed his food, and he kissed my brow, My lord hath a maid with sunlit hair, And eyes like a grove when the sun shines there. (Tira-la-la through lilies and corn!) |