[Pg 7]

Thy gift, if so I chose,—no other hand

Save thine.—I reached and gathered to my heart

The quivering, sentient things.—Sometimes I start

To know them hidden there.—If I should stand

Idly, some day, and one,—God help me!—breast

A homing breeze,—my brown bird knows its nest.

[Pg 8]

Dream-Song.

Cam'st thou not nigh to me

In that one glimpse of thee

When thy lips, tremblingly,

Said: "My Beloved."

'Twas but a moment's space,

And in that crowded place

I dared not scan thy face

O! my Beloved.

Yet there may come a time

(Though loving be a crime

Only allowed in rhyme

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