What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, That my songs do not show me at all? For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, I am an answer, they are only a call
No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.
Beauty, more than bitterness, makes the heart break.
Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.