I knew the language of the floweret; "My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose." Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always just my luck to get One perfect rose. _Ballade at Thirty-five_ This, no song of an ingénue, This, no ballad of innocence; This, the rhyme of a lady who Followed ever her natural bents. This, a solo of sapience, This, a chantey of sophistry, This, the sum of experiments,-- I loved them until they loved me. Decked in garments of sable hue, Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents, Wearing shower bouquets of rue, Walk I ever in penitence. Oft I roam, as my heart repents, Through God's acre of memory, Marking stones, in my reverence, "I loved them until they loved me." Pictures pass me in long review,-- Marching columns of dead events. I was tender, and, often, true; Ever a prey to coincidence. Always knew I the consequence; Always saw what the end would be. We're as Nature has made us--hence I loved them until they loved me. L'ENVOI: Princes, never I'd give offense, Won't you think of me tenderly? Here's my strength and my weakness, gents,-- I loved them until they loved me. _The Thin Edge_ With you, my heart is quiet here, And all my thoughts are cool as rain. I sit and let the shifting year Go by before the window-pane, And reach my hand to yours, my dear ... I wonder what it's like in Spain. _Spring Song_ (in the expected manner) Enter April, laughingly, Blossoms in her tumbled hair, High of heart, and fancy-free-- When was maiden half so fair? Bright her eyes with easy tears, Wanton-sweet, her smiles for men. "Winter's gone," she cries, "and here's Spring again." When we loved, 'twas April, too; Madcap April--urged us on. Just as she did, so did you-- Sighed, and smiled, and then were gone. How she plied her pretty arts, How she laughed and sparkled then! April, make love in our hearts Spring again! _Love Song_ My own dear love, he is strong and bold And he cares not what comes after. His words ring sweet as a chime of gold, And his eyes are lit with laughter. He is jubilant as a flag unfurled-- Oh, a girl, she'd not forget him. My own dear love, he is all my world,-- And I wish I'd never met him.