And its fair face a jewel amid the gray,

Beshadowed places that it flows between;

So your dear love, a simple forest stream,

Bearing the wealth of all that life can hold,—

Nor ever dreaming of the worth that lies

Deep in your heart—why, you have made it seem

That every empty hour is wrought of gold

And this tear-sodden world, a Paradise!

At the Window

I looked out of my window tall

And laughed to see the May,

For everything both great and small

Was on a holiday.

Then Love came by and laughed at me,

And I forgot the Spring—

Only I knew the ecstasy

Of madly listening.

And now the branches all again

Are red with vernal May,

But tears have dimmed the window-pane—

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