Hard in their beauty, laughing thro' their days;
Their fine indifference is out of tune.
In the dark paths we tread in hope and fear
Look we to Autumn and her gracious ways,
The great last swan-song of the dying year.
[THE TIDE OF THE HEART]
Love, when you leave me, as with moon-bent tide
The glad waves leave the beaches of my heart;
Slowly and indolently they depart
Ripple by ripple, till the light has died