In the blushing blossoms
Of new spring,
I blushed for love new-born;
In sultry summer’s flushing heat
With heated skin and mellow eyes
I watched my love grow in size;
In autumn when ruby leaves were blown
Onto the dry and hardening ground
I lowered my eyes down;
In the whistling winds
Of winter’s wasteland,
I let my thoughts grow dim;
But now spring has come, my friend,  
And I’m due to start again!

As the sweet pale moon
   Waxes and wanes,
So the swelling sea’s tides do
    Ebb and flow;
United despite distance,
Like me and you.

As the day and night
   Do meet for but a mo.
They feel such delight
    At each other’s sight;
And the hours between go slow;
My darling, please, don’t go.

Yet like a fairy-tale, a valentine,
    A lullaby soft and sweet,
I know I shall see you again -
   That once more we shall meet.

My candle burns at both ends;
  It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
  It gives a lovely light!

She is neither pink nor pale,
  And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
  And her mouth on a valentine.

She has more hair than she needs;
  In the sun ’tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.

She loves me all that she can,
  And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
  And she never will be all mine.

Why does the sea moan evermore?
      Shut out from heaven it makes its moan,
It frets against the boundary shore;
      All earth's full rivers cannot fill
      The sea, that drinking thirsteth still.

Sheer miracles of loveliness
      Lie hid in its unlooked-on bed:
Anemones, salt, passionless,
      Blow flower-like; just enough alive
      To blow and multiply and thrive.

Shells quaint with curve, or spot, or spike,
      Encrusted live things argus-eyed,
All fair alike, yet all unlike,
      Are born without a pang, and die
      Without a pang, and so pass by.

Tonight in this garden
a million flowers boom
clouds of gypsophila loom
at my window and beyond
with fragrant vines, that crawl
saturate, scented paper walls
these night lilies, only a dalliance
that blooms and fades
your hands soft upon my legs
we are drunk from dulcet wine
sung from the whisper of moon that dips
caress of your reddened lips
all other time is now lost
as we travel this world
lilting softly slow

In the ethereal gloaming
Of glowing flowers and dusky haze,
A lone figure was roaming
Under the sweet moon’s pale rays;
A lullaby sang the breeze
With its melody the rustling trees,
That in the night looked not so sere
And without moon’s glow did disappear;
A lost lake lay along the way
Ringed by cedar and willows weeping,
A water-lily cupped a lone moon ray
Ripe for plucking and for drinking;
Stars spangled the infinite sky,
Which is where she flew –
Up and away, further than high.