LOVE'S COMMAND Love lifted up his eyes to mine, And in their depth did I behold A flame, so potent yet divine That all the world besides seemed cold. "Dear love," I cried, "come enter in And warm my heart with living fire." Love answered, "First cast out the sin And rid my dwelling of desire." CHANCE MEETING I looked up! you were standing there close beside me, And just for a second our glances met, And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet. I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken. My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold. I was longing, hopeless, and almost old. ITALIAN SPRING It is the Spring! And what could be So sweet a thing As early Spring In Italy? To make the boon more wondrous rare You've caught the sunlight in your hair, And, happy slave, it dances there. To steal the splendour from the skies, You draw their colour to your eyes, Like deep blue lakes of Paradise. It is the Spring! And what could be So sweet a thing As early Spring In Italy, And you with me! TO —— Oh! the awful pity of it all, That I ever learned to care for you, That we ever chanced to meet at all, Since we neither of us could be true. THE DIRGE OF A LONELY GARDEN "I am a garden, alone, alone! Oh little Swallow pity me. Over my paths have the lichens grown, Oh little Swallow pity me. Down by the river the reeds are dank, Close to the portal the grass is rank; Nettles take birth on the lily bank. Oh little Swallow pity me. "Once in the earliest days She came, Oh little Swallow pity me, Sowing the seeds of my after fame, Oh little Swallow pity me. Beautiful hands she had, and lo! All that they touched would thrill and grow Up to the sun of her eyes, aglow, Oh little Swallow pity me. "Beautiful feet she had, that fell Oh little Swallow pity me, Like the caress of one loved well, Oh little Swallow pity me. Over the lawn at the twilight hour Sometimes she wandered to pluck a flower, Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower. Oh little Swallow pity me. "Then she would speak to me, sweet my own! Oh little Swallow pity me, Words from her heart to my heart alone, Oh little Swallow pity me. Tender, and ardent, and secret things, Sprang to her lips, as the water springs Up from the earth where the blue mist clings. Oh little Swallow pity me.