Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
AUTHOR OF “_Some Verses_,” “_The Bed Time Book_.”
PAGE ATARAH 3 AGE 4 LOVE AND DAWN 5 L’AMOUR AMBIGUEUX 6 SAPPHICS 7 SATAN, PRINCE OF DARKNESS 8 IN PRISON 9 GHOSTS 10 LILIS 11 THE OLD WOMEN 12 TO HIPPOLYTUS 13 THE GARDEN HEDGE 14 THE SLAVE WOMAN 15 SONG 16 SANS-JOY 17 OUT OF THE JUNGLE 18 IN PORT 19 SONNY BOY 21 SUNRISE 22 DEAD LADIES 24 WHEN TRISTAN SAILED 25 THE BATTLE 27 RECOMPENSE 28 THE LOTUS EATERS 29 LOST APHRODITE 30 THE FOOLS 32 THE AWAKENING 33 THE DARK WOMAN 34 SUMMER SONG 35 SERAPHIS 36 VENGEMENT 37 AUTUMN LOVE 38 THE WITCH 40 THE MAN 42 DOWN IN MALDONADO TOWN 43 THE CHOICE 45 THE BROOK 46 AT THE END OF THE WORLD 47 THE GYPSY 48 BOY O’ DREAMS 49 BALLAD OF THE SLAVE 51 FOAM 53 THE SEAL 54 RELEASE 55 SIN, THE SWORD 56 FANTASTIC SPRING 57 SONG 58 CONTRAST 59 THE PRICE 60 THE KING’S DAUGHTER 61 LAIS 62 THE HERITAGE 63 THE MONK IN HIS GARDEN 64 BIANCA 65 FREE 66 BLACK AND GOLD 67 THE ANSWER 68 PEACE 69 BARNABAS 70 LOST DREAMS 71 LADY OF LIGHT 72 SONG 73 THE GYPSY BLOOD 74 AND YET 75 THRO’ THE PLEACHED ALLEYS 76
_Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. Harper and Brothers, the Century Company, and the Metropolitan Magazine for courteous permission to reproduce certain of the verses included in this volume._
_Oh, you were not so idle-- You wore a sprig of green; You wore a feather in your cap, The reddest ever seen._
_Your face was laughing gypsy brown, Your eyes were of the blue; You wandered up and down the world, For you had much to do._
_For oh, you were not idle, Whatever men might say-- You made the colour of the year Magnificent and gay._
With painted slender folded hands She waited what might come, Her head was tyred with jewelled bands, Her mouth was sweet and dumb.
Her cymar was of ardassine, Fire red from throat to hem, Broidered with Turkis stones therein-- She gave her soul for them.
Faint cassia and love-haunted myrrh Made perilous her hair, And what was Sidon’s woe to her Whose face was king’s despair?
Nor life nor love from those cold lips, But ah, in what degree, Her passionate lover leans and sips Her death-bright poesy.