THESE others ask me little, clamoring
For such imperfect gifts as I can bring;
A crown . . . with thorns along it . . . or much gold
To weigh the heart down with its dragging hold . . .
Or men's loud voices calling on their name,
A little day, then hurt and scorn– called Fame–
Or for one fleeting hour a world made new
Called Love . . . But, Child, these gifts are not for you.

Too clear of sight, you ask things past my hold;
A light beyond the sunlight . . . Fairy-gold . . .
Love ageless and unflawed . . . Faith crystal-true . . .
So, Child, I keep my broken gifts from you,
Leaving instead my only perfect thing,
The Dream these others lose, all-sorrowing,
Still raptured, still all-golden; yours to keep
Till Death my sister's gift, more perfect Sleep.

I WENT to sleep smiling,
  I wakened despairing–
Where was my soul,
  On what terror-path faring?
What grief shall befall me,
  By midnight or noon,
What thing has my soul learned
  That I shall know soon?

I TELL my heart, to hush her aching
When we are sleeping, when we're waking,
Of things we loved well, she and I,
Upon a time that is gone by:

Heart, now the Spring comes there shall be
A bright and blossoming apple-tree
Against the window-light to swing
Its thousand-petaled flowering;
There is clear water, flickering green,
With shining leaf-brown rocks between
And silver fish that hide and dart
Where we may play too, dear my heart;
And there is sunlight's gold that lies
Warmly on cheek and breast and eyes
And little winds at even-star
That slip from where the pine-trees are . . .
And heart, remember how we heard
At twilight once a wakened bird
Whose notes flung out a silver net
Against flame-rose, flame-violet!

Oh, heart, my heart, still can you lie
Dumb while the wonder-spring goes by?

My heart is very young– some while
Perhaps she may look up and smile.

CROSSING through Heaven's doors,
  If Heaven may be for me,
I shall not seek gold floors
  Nor jasper wall nor sea;

Out from the streets of gold
  Will branch a wooded way
Like one I knew of old
  When all the world was May:

There shall be dusk to fall
  And winds expectant, sweet,
And sleepy birds to call
  And vines about my feet,

Stars in the night's soft black,
  Leaves that swish soft like rain
And one old hour come back
  And one choice given again.

ONCE when all the Spring was wild,
  All the leaves dew-pearled,
Once I met Happiness,
  Singing down the world.

She had laughter on her lips,
  Flowers in her hair–
Once I met Happiness–
  Oh, she was fair!

There was yellow sun, I know,
  Scent o' pine that day,
Once she kissed me on the lips,
  Laughed and went her way.

What if all the lights are dim,
  All the flowers furled?
Once I met Happiness,
  Singing down the world!