With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.

When I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now

Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy

A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.

Into my heart's treasury I slipped a coin That Time cannot take Nor a thief purloin- O better than the minting Of a gold-crowned king Is the safe-kept memory Of a lovely thing.

Take love when love is given.