TO MY MOTHER
Love that holds life and death in fee,Deep as the clear unsounded seaAnd sweet as life or death can be,Lays here my hope, my heart, and meBefore you, silent, in a song.Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace,When half sung through, before your face,It needs must live a springtide space,While April suns grow strong.
March 24, 1896.
THE TALE OF BALEN
In hawthorn-time the heart grows light,The world is sweet in... more...