The Thief

Did you see the rascal with the rain-grey eyes? He robbed me of my happiness before I knew its worth. He stole into my garden and took it by surprise, When midnight hid his wicked ways upon the sleeping earth.

How shall I arrest him, for he took away my Spring, Took away my April 'neath his cloak of steaming rain. Tho' he left his Summer and a choir of birds that sing, Nothing will content me for I want my Spring again.

I WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THE GRASS

I will write letters to my friend the grass, I will sing all my songs to lilac flowers Gather the spices in the airs that pass, And wrap my heart close shrouded in the hours.

I dread man's huge impertinence; he creeps Thro' the inviolate silences of Spring Like a marauder, waking that which sleeps To gather strength for lyric blossoming.

I will write all my letters to the grass. The world shall be resolved into a cry Faint as a little voice that cries Alas! And I will laugh alone beneath the sky.