Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.
Dreamily over the roofs The cold spring rain is falling; Out in the lonely tree A bird is calling, calling.
Slowly over the earth The wings of night are falling; My heart like the bird in the tree Is calling, calling, calling.
Night Song at Amalfi
I asked the heaven of stars What I should give my love— It answered me with silence, Silence above.
I asked the darkened sea Down where the fishers go— It answered me with silence, Silence below.
Oh, I could give him weeping, Or I could give him song— But how can I give silence, My whole life long?
Strephon kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest, Robin's lost in play, But the kiss in Colin's eyes Haunts me night and day.
A Winter Night
My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite.
God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro, God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.
My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold.
Oh, there are eyes that he can see, And hands to make his hands rejoice, But to my lover I must be Only a voice.
Oh, there are breasts to bear his head, And lips whereon his lips can lie, But I must be till I am dead Only a cry.
I gave my first love laughter, I gave my second tears, I gave my third love silence Through all the years.
My first love gave me singing, My second eyes to see, But oh, it was my third love Who gave my soul to me.
But Not to Me
The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.
My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be; Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.
Song at Capri
When beauty grows too great to bear How shall I ease me of its ache, For beauty more than bitterness Makes the heart break....