Lady of dusk wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp splintering leaf-tread with thee on before, White, slender through green saplings; I have lain by thee on the grey forest floor Beside thee, my Lady. Lady of rivers strewn with stones, Only thou art my Lady. Where thousand the freshets are crowded like peasants to a fair; Clear skinned, wild from seclusion, They jostle white armed down the tent-bordered thoroughfare Praising my Lady. Homage Elvira, by love's grace There goeth before you A clear radiance Which maketh all vain souls Candles when noon is. The loud clangour of pretenders Melteth before you Like the roll of carts passing, But you come silently And homage is given. Now the little by-path Which leadeth to love Is again joyful with its many; And the great highway From love Is without passers. The Fool's Song I tried to put a bird in a cage. O fool that I am! For the bird was Truth. Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put Truth in a cage! And when I had the bird in the cage, O fool that I am! Why, it broke my pretty cage. Sing merrily, Truth; I tried to put Truth in a cage! And when the bird was flown from the cage, O fool that I am! Why, I had nor bird nor cage. Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put Truth in a cage! Heigh-ho! Truth in a cage. From "The Birth of Venus," Song Come with us and play! See, we have breasts as women! From your tents by the sea Come play with us: it is forbidden! Come with us and play! Lo, bare, straight legs in the water! By our boats we stay, Then swimming away Come to us: it is forbidden! Come with us and play! See, we are tall as women! Our eyes are keen: Our hair is bright: Our voices speak outright: We revel in the sea's green! Come play: It is forbidden! Immortal Yes, there is one thing braver than all flowers; Richer than clear gems; wider than the sky; Immortal and unchangeable; whose powers Transcend reason, love and sanity! And thou, beloved, art that godly thing! Marvellous and terrible; in glance An injured Juno roused against Heaven's King! And thy name, lovely One, is Ignorance. Mezzo Forte Take that, damn you; and that! And here's a rose To make it right again! God knows I'm sorry, Grace; but then, It's not my fault if you will be a cat. An After Song So art thou broken in upon me, Apollo, Through a splendour of purple garments-- Held by the yellow-haired Clymène To clothe the white of thy shoulders-- Bare from the day's leaping of horses. This is strange to me, here in the modern twilight. Crude Lament