Beautiful as some rich embroidery
The valley lies in verdant amplitude,
Great mountains—like old merchants—o’er it brood—
And as a lovely woman languidly
Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea
To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . .
The sky forgets her starry multitude,
Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be!
Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring,
Moving in mystic dances, bring desire,
New miracles of beauty every day . . .
Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing
Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire
So burn the hours of joy as swift away!
“I am Weary, let me Sleep”
I am weary, let me sleep
In some great embroidered bed,
With soft pillows for my head.
I am weary, let me sleep . . .
Petals of sweet roses shed
All around a perfumed heap
White as pearls, and ruby red;
Curtains closely drawn to keep
Wings of darkness o’er me spread . . .
I am weary, let me sleep
In some great embroidered bed.
Let me dream that I am dead,
Nevermore to wake and weep
In the future that I dread . . .
For the ways of life are steep . . .
I am weary, let me sleep . . .