When, nearing dawn, the black cock crows, And crows, and crows; And from the barn the milch-cow lows; And the milkmaid's cheeks have each a rose, And the still skies show a star or two, Or one or two; There is little to say, and much to do, And the heartier done the happier you, With a song of the winter, dearie. APART I. While sunset burns and stars are few, And roses scent the fading light, And like a slim urn, dripping dew, A spirit carries through the night, The pearl-pale moon hangs new,-- I think of you, of you. II. While waters flow, and soft winds woo The golden-hearted bud with sighs; And, like a flower an angel threw, Out of the momentary skies A star falls burning blue,-- I dream of you, of you. III. While love believes, and hearts are true, So let me think, so let me dream; The thought and dream so wedded to Your face, that, far apart, I seem To see each thing you do, And be with you, with you. FAERY MORRIS I. The winds are whist; and, hid in mist, The moon hangs o'er the wooded height; The bushy bee, with unkempt head, Hath made the sunflower's disk his bed, And sleeps half-hid from sight. The owlet makes us melody-- Come dance with us in Faery, Come dance with us to-night. II. The dew is damp; the glow-worm's lamp Blurs in the moss its tawny light; The great gray moth sinks, half-asleep, Where, in an elfin-laundered heap, The lily-gowns hang white. The crickets make us minstrelsy-- Come dance with us in Faery, Come dance with us to-night. III. With scents of heat, dew-chilled and sweet, The new-cut hay smells by the bight; The ghost of some dead pansy bloom, The butterfly dreams in the gloom, Its pied wings folded tight. The world is lost in fantasy,-- Come dance with us in Faery, Come dance with us to-night. THE WORLD'S DESIRE The roses of voluptuousness Wreathe her dark locks and hide her eyes; Her limbs are flower-like nakedness, Wherethrough the fragrant blood doth press, The blossom-blood of Paradise. She stands with Lilith finger tips, With Lilith hands; and gathers up The wild wine of all life; and sips With Lilith-laughter-lightened lips The soul as from a crystal cup. What though she cast the cup away! The empty bowl that flashed with wine! Her curled lips' kiss, that stained the clay, Her fingers' touch--shall not these stay, That made its nothingness divine? Through one again shall live the glow, Immortalizing, of her touch; And through the other, sweet to know How life swept flame once 'neath the snow Of her mooned breasts,--and this is much! THE UNATTAINABLE Mark thou! a shadow crowned with fire of hell. Man holds her in his heart as night doth hold The moonlight memories of day's dead gold; Or as a winter-withered asphodel In its dead loveliness holds scents of old. And looking on her, lo, he thinks 'tis well.