Loves

Some people love things modest and things small, And like to feed in cages little birds; They deck themselves with garden violets And drink the singing waters of the brooks.

Others delight in tales told by the embers Of the home hearth or listen to the songs Of the nightbirds with rapture; others, slaves Of a great pain, burn incense to the stars

Of beauty. And some thirst for the forest shades And for a nacreous dawn, and for a sunset Dipped in red blood, a barren wilderness

Light-burned. But thee no love with nature binds; And where the heavens mingle with the sea, A path thou seekest for a sphere beyond.

1896.