Hush! hush! list, heart of mine, and hearken low! You do not guess how tender is the Night, And in what faintest murmurs of delight Her deep, dim-throated utterances flow Across the memories of long-ago! Hark! do your senses catch the exquisite Staccatos of a bird that dreams he sings? Nay, then, you hear not rightly,--'tis a blur Of misty love-notes, laughs and whisperings The Night pours o'er the lips that fondle her, And that faint breeze, filled with all fragrant sighs,-- That is her breath that quavers lover-wise-- O blessed sweetheart, with thy swart, sweet kiss, Baptize me, drown me in black swirls of bliss! THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN The hour before the dawn! O ye who grope therein, with fear and dread And agony of soul, be comforted, Knowing, ere long, the darkness will be gone, And down its dusky aisles the light be shed; Therefore, in utter trust, fare on--fare on, This hour before the dawn! GOOD-BY, OLD YEAR Good-by, Old Year! Good-by! We have been happy--you and I; We have been glad in many ways; And now, that you have come to die, Remembering our happy days, 'Tis hard to say, "Good-by-- Good-by, Old Year! Good-by!" Good-by, Old Year! Good-by! We have seen sorrow--you and I-- Such hopeless sorrow, grief and care, That now, that you have come to die, Remembering our old despair, 'Tis sweet to say, "Good-by-- Good-by, Old Year! Good-by!" FALSE AND TRUE One said: "Here is my hand to lean upon As long as you may need it." And one said: "Believe me true to you till I am dead." And one, whose dainty way it was to fawn About my face, with mellow fingers drawn Most soothingly o'er brow and drooping head, Sighed tremulously: "Till my breath is fled Know I am faithful!" ... Now, all these are gone And many like to them--and yet I make No bitter moan above their grassy graves-- Alas! they are not dead for me to take Such sorry comfort!--but my heart behaves Most graciously, since one who never spake A vow is true to me for true love's sake. A BALLAD FROM APRIL I am dazed and bewildered with living A life but an intricate skein Of hopes and despairs and thanksgiving Wound up and unravelled again-- Till it seems, whether waking or sleeping, I am wondering ever the while At a something that smiles when I'm weeping, And a something that weeps when I smile.