Thou singest the rage of jealous Moor, The passionate love of Juliet; Thy villainous art can weave a net With shreds of song, that never yet Hath lover escaped, however noble and pure. Ophelia's broken heart is thine, And Desdemona's, true and good; Thou paintest the damn-ed spot of blood That will not out in stain or line! Oh Lear! Oh Fool! Oh Witch Macbeth! And wondrous Hamlet in a breath! Who knows thy heart? thy song? thy words? Thou Shakespeare in the realm of birds! A RONDEL October, queen of autumn days, With green and crimson leaves is crowned; Her russet cheeks are sun-embrowned, Her hair all golden in the haze: She sits upon a throne ablaze, Her limbs with royal robes are gowned-- October, queen of autumn days, With green and crimson leaves encrowned But now o'erwhelmed in sad amaze She hears a far-off rising sound; The hills and booming seas resound; The plaintive wind her requiem plays-- October, queen of autumn days. THE PLAY IS O'ER The play is o'er! Great Wolsey's dead-- That scarlet power once England's dread; And lustful Henry's brutal sin Hath slain the noble Catharine,-- More stainless wife was never wed. Anne Boleyn shares the royal bed And wears upon her graceless head The good queen's crown without chagrin-- The play is o'er! A few brief months have swiftly sped, The faithless consort's blood is shed. What means the mighty noise within? The trumpet's blare, the cymbal's din? Jane Seymour's to the altar led,-- The play is o'er! A RONDEAU His heart was pure: he loved the child That dwelt among untrodden ways And dared to lift his voice in praise Of humblest wight in highlands wild. Poor, wretched man by sin defiled, He sang in sympathetic lays-- His heart was pure. The blithe cuckoo and daisy mild, The daffodils, like elfin fays, The mystery of sunset haze O'er barren moors, his pen beguiled-- His heart was pure. THE RED BIRD Animated, flashing, flame of scarlet, Teasing, tantalizing, madcap varlet, Glooming, glinting through the boughs, Making, breaking lover's vows; Dashing leader of the choir, Standing on the topmost spire, Scintillating song and fire, Calls me: _Come up--come up--higher, higher, higher!_ Daytime meteor trailing light, Like a shooting star at night-- Just a moment of delight, Followed by a mad desire: But the flaming flash of scarlet, Tantalizing madcap varlet, Hiding from my aching sight-- This time just a little nigher-- Laughing from his leafy height, Mocks me: _Come up--come up--higher, higher, higher!_ SUNSET IN BREATHITT