Tears. [Lizette Woodworth Reese] The Tears of Harlequin. [Theodosia Garrison] That Day you came. [Lizette Woodworth Reese] There's Rosemary. [Olive Tilford Dargan] They went forth to Battle, but they always fell. [Shaemas O Sheel] The Thought of her. [Richard Hovey] To a New York Shop-Girl dressed for Sunday. [Anna Hempstead Branch] To William Sharp. [Clinton Scollard] To-Day. [Helen Gray Cone] Trumbull Stickney. [George Cabot Lodge] Tryste Noel. [Louise Imogen Guiney] The Unconquered Air. [Florence Earle Coates] Under Arcturus. [Madison Cawein] The Unreturning. [Bliss Carman] Uriel. [Percy MacKaye] A Vagabond Song. [Bliss Carman] Wanderers. [George Sylvester Viereck] Water Fantasy. [Fannie Stearns Davis] We needs must be divided in the Tomb. [George Santayana] A West-Country Lover. [Alice Brown] When I am dead and Sister to the Dust. [Elsa Barker] When I have gone Weird Ways. [John G. Neihardt] When the Wind is low. [Cale Young Rice] Why. [Bliss Carman] The Wife from Fairyland. [Richard Le Gallienne] A Winter Ride. [Amy Lowell] Winter Sleep. [Edith M. Thomas] Witchery. [Frank Dempster Sherman] Biographical Notes Sincere thanks are due to my friend Thomas S. Jones, Jr., who, during my absence in Europe, has kindly taken charge of all details incident to putting "The Little Book of Modern Verse" through the press. The Little Book of Modern Verse Lord of my Heart's Elation. [Bliss Carman] Lord of my heart's elation, Spirit of things unseen, Be thou my aspiration Consuming and serene! Bear up, bear out, bear onward, This mortal soul alone, To selfhood or oblivion, Incredibly thine own, -- As the foamheads are loosened And blown along the sea, Or sink and merge forever In that which bids them be. I, too, must climb in wonder, Uplift at thy command, -- Be one with my frail fellows Beneath the wind's strong hand, A fleet and shadowy column Of dust or mountain rain, To walk the earth a moment And be dissolved again. Be thou my exaltation Or fortitude of mien, Lord of the world's elation, Thou breath of things unseen! Gloucester Moors. [William Vaughn Moody] A mile behind is Gloucester town Where the fishing fleets put in, A mile ahead the land dips down And the woods and farms begin. Here, where the moors stretch free In the high blue afternoon, Are the marching sun and talking sea, And the racing winds that wheel and flee On the flying heels of June. Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, Blue is the quaker-maid, The wild geranium holds its dew Long in the boulder's shade. Wax-red hangs the cup From the huckleberry boughs, In barberry bells the grey moths sup Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up Sweet bowls for their carouse.