Chirp! chirp ! chirp ! alack! for pity! Who hath marred my merry ditty? Who hath stirred the scented petals, peeping in where robins dwell? Oh, my mate! May Heaven defend her! Little maidens' hearts are tender, And I never, never, never, never, never meant to tell. A SONG OF RICHES WHAT will you give to a barefoot lass, Morning with breath like wine? Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass Starry marigolds shine. Alms, sweet Noon, for a barefoot lass, Gift, a gift for a barefoot lass, Homeward the weary merchants pass, THE LITTLE KNIGHT IN GREEN WHAT fragrant-footed comer Who deems her warriors dead. Make sharp your spears, my gallant peers, And prick the frozen ground. Last hope my heart gives over. But hark! a shout of cheer! My brothers leave their slumbers The day's our own; but, overthrown, I kiss her feet and deem it sweet Frank Dempster Sherman ON A GREEK VASE DIVINELY shapen cup, thy lip Unto me seemeth thus to speak: "Behold in me the workmanship, The grace and cunning of a Greek! "Long ages since he mixed the clay, Whose sense of symmetry was such, The labor of a single day Immortal grew beneath his touch. "For dreaming while his fingers went Around this slender neck of mine, The form of her he loved was blent With every matchless curve and line. They do not miss their meadow place, There, in the downy meshes pinned, Such sweet illusions haunt their rest; They think her breath the fragrant wind, And tremble on her breast; As if, close to her heart, they heard THE LIBRARY GIVE me the room whose every nook Is dedicated to a book: Two windows will suffice for air And grant the light admission there, — Where one may find the lords of rhyme Not much, but just enough to light From Plato down to those who are |