HYPNOS, GOD OF SLEEP
The shadowy boy of night
Crosses the dusking land;
He sows his poppy-seeds
With steady gentle hand.
The shadowy boy of night,
Young husbandman of dreams,
Garners his gracious blooms
By far and moonlit streams.
EXPENSES
Little my lacking fortunes show
For this to eat and that to wear;
Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go!
An obol pays the Stygian fare.
London, 1910.
ON SEEING WEATHER-BEATEN TREES
Is it as plainly in our living shown,
By slant and twist, which way the wind hath blown?
ADVENTURE
Sun and wind and beat of sea,
Great lands stretching endlessly. . . .
Where be bonds to bind the free?
All the world was made for me!