When Fate was gentle to me for a too-brief hour.
There is my spirit’s home and my soul’s abode,
The rest are only inns on the traveller’s road.
From Behind the Lattice
I see your red-gold hair and know
How white the hidden skin must be,
Though sun-kissed face and fingers show
The fervour of the noon-day glow,
The keenness of the sea.
My longing fancies ebb and flow,