Chapter I: KNOW. Elsa Barker 39

“I LEANED OUT MY WINDOW.” _Jean Ingelow_ 31

“I MUST NOT YIELD.” _Nora May French_ 63

“I SAT AMONG THE GREEN LEAVES.” _Marjorie L. C. Pickthall_ 13

“I WILL NOT GIVE THEE ALL MY HEART.” _Grace Hazard Conkling_ 56

“IF THOU MUST LOVE ME, LET IT BE FOR NOUGHT.”
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ 41

IN DEEP PLACES. _Amelia Josephine Burr_ 51

IN THE PARK. _Helen Hoyt_ 14

INCANTATION, AN. _Marguerite Wilkinson_ 21

INSUFFICIENCY. _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ 62

LATE COMER, TO A. _Julia C. R. Dorr_ 96

“LESS THAN THE DUST.” _Laurence Hope_ 119

“LOVE CAME BACK AT FALL O’ DEW.” _Lizette Woodworth Reese_ 90

LOVE IS A TERRIBLE THING. _Grace Fallow Norton_ 8

LOVE ME AT LAST. _Alice Corbin_ 6

LOVE SONG. _Mary Carolyn Davies_ 22

LOVE SONG. _Harriet Monroe_ 59

LOVE’S CHANGE. _Anne Reeve Aldrich_ 67

LYNMOUTH WIDOW, A. _Amelia Josephine Burr_ 118

MAN, THE. _Helen Hay Whitney_ 121

MAN WITH A HAMMER, THE. _Anna Wickham_ 36

“MANY IN AFTERTIMES WILL SAY.” _Christina Rossetti_ 78

MENACE. _Katharine Tynan_ 58

MESSAGE, THE. _Margaret Sackville_ 85

NAME, THE. _Williamina Parrish_ 30

NORAH. _Zoë Akins_ 120

“OH, THE BURDEN, THE BURDEN OF LOVE UNGIVEN.”
_Grace Fallow Norton_ 12

OLD SONG, AN. _Fannie Stearns Davis_ 54

OTHER, THE. _Ethna Carbery_ 86

PARTING. _Emily Dickinson_ 53

PARTING. _Alice Freeman Palmer_ 83

PASSER-BY, THE. _Edith M. Thomas_ 111

POSSESSION. _Jean Starr Untermeyer_ 60

RAIN. _Jean Starr Untermeyer_ 29

RAIN, RAIN! _Zoë Akins_ 33

RAINBOW, THE. _Vine Colby_ 88

RED MAY. _A. Mary F. Robinson_ 7

REMINISCENCE, A. _Amy Levy_ 99

RENOUNCEMENT. _Alice Meynell_ 65

REQUIESCAT. _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 113

REST. _Irene Rutherford McLeod_ 40

RHAPSODY. _Florence Earle Coates_ 24

RISPETTO, I, II, III. _A. Mary F. Robinson_ 75, 76, 77

SEA SONG. _Laurence Hope_ 73

SERVICE. _Anna Hempstead Branch_ 81

SILLER CROWN, THE. _Susanna Blamire_ 92

“SO BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE, INDEED.” _Irene Rutherford McLeod_ 20

SOMEWHERE OR OTHER. _Christina Rossetti_ 1

TAXI, THE. _Amy Lowell_ 44

THAT DAY YOU CAME. _Lizette Woodworth Reese_ 52

TIRED WOMAN, THE. _Anna Wickham_ 42

TO A LATE COMER. _Julia C. R. Dorr_ 96

TO ONE UNKNOWN. _Helen Dudley_ 3

“TO-DAY I WENT AMONG THE MOUNTAIN FOLK.” _Olive Tilford Dargan_ 101

“UNDER DUSKY LAUREL LEAF.” _Margaret Widdemer_ 122

UNFULFILLED. _Corinne Roosevelt Robinson_ 117

UNWEDDED. _Ada Foster Murray_ 116

VOS NON VOBIS. _Edith M. Thomas_ 11

“WHEN I AM DEAD.” _Christina Rossetti_ 112

“WHEN ON THE MARGE OF EVENING.” _Louise Imogen Guiney_ 25

WHEN PLAINTIVELY AND NEAR THE CRICKET SINGS. _Nora May French_ 68

“WHEN WE SHALL BE DUST.” _Muna Lee_ 79

WOMAN’S QUESTION, A. _Adelaide Anne Procter_ 47

“YET FOR ONE ROUNDED MOMENT.” _Edith Wharton_ 61

“YOU SAY THERE IS NO LOVE.” _Grace Fallow Norton_ 45

THE ANSWERING VOICE

SOMEWHERE OR OTHER

Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet--never yet--ah, me!
Made answer to my word.

Somewhere or other, maybe near or far;
Past land and sea, clean out of sight;
Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star
That tracks her night by night.

Somewhere or other, maybe far or near;
With just a wall, a hedge, between;
With just the last leaves of the dying year
Fallen on a turf grown green.

_Christina Rossetti_

THE BIRCH TREE AT LOSCHWITZ

At Loschwitz above the city
The air is sunny and chill;
The birch trees and the pine trees
Grow thick upon the hill.

Lone and tall, with silver stem,
A birch tree stands apart;
The passionate wind of spring-time
Stirs in its leafy heart.

I lean against the birch tree,
My arms around it twine;
It pulses, and leaps, and quivers,
Like a human heart to mine.

One moment I stand, then sudden
Let loose mine arms that cling:
O God! the lonely hillside,
The passionate wind of spring!

_Amy Levy_

TO ONE UNKNOWN

I have seen the proudest stars
That wander on through space,
Even the sun and moon,
But not your face.

I have heard the violin,
The winds and waves rejoice
In endless minstrelsy;
Yet not your voice.

I have touched the trillium,
Pale flower of the land,
Coral, anemone,
And not your hand.

I have kissed the shining feet
Of Twilight lover-wise,
Opened the gates of Dawn--
Oh, not your eyes!

I have dreamed unwonted things,
Visions that witches brew,
Spoken with images,
Never with you.

_Helen Dudley_

“I HAVE WANDERED TO A SPRING”

I have wandered to a spring in the forest green and dim,
The sweet quiet stirs about me--
The water twinkles at me,
As I stoop to dip my cup,
As I stoop to drink--to him.

True, I’m only half in earnest--I touch the cool, wet brim--
He’d laugh if he could see me--
I’m glad he doesn’t see me,
As alone with my queer gladness,
I stoop to drink--to him.

_Edna Wahlert McCourt_

LOVE ME AT LAST

Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me;
Hard words could never, as these half-words,
Grieve me:
Love me at last--or leave me.

Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
Be but your own;
Love me, or leave me--as a cloud, a vapor,
Or a bird flown.
Love me at last--I am but sliding water
Over a stone.

_Alice Corbin_

RED MAY

Out of the window the trees in the Square
Are covered with crimson May--
You, that were all of my love and my care,
Have broken my heart to-day.

But though I have lost you and though I despair
Till even the past looks gray--
Out of the window the trees in the Square
Are covered with crimson May.

_A. Mary F. Robinson_

LOVE IS A TERRIBLE THING

I went out to the farthest meadow,
I lay down in the deepest shadow;

And I said unto the earth, “Hold me,”
And unto the night, “O enfold me,”

And unto the wind petulantly
I cried, “You know not for you are free!”

And I begged the little leaves to lean
Low and together for a safe screen;

Then to the stars I told my tale:
“That is my home-light, there in the vale,

“And Ο, I know that I shall return,
But let me lie first mid the unfeeling fern.

“For there is a flame that has blown too near,
And there is a name that has grown too dear,
And there is a fear....”

And to the still hills and cool earth and far sky I made moan,
“The heart in my bosom is not my own!

“O would I were free as the wind on wing;
Love is a terrible thing!”

_Grace Fallow Norton_

A CONNAUGHT LAMENT

I will arise and go hence to the west,
And dig me a grave where the hill-winds call;
But oh, were I dead, were I dust, the fall
Of my own love’s footstep would break my rest!

My heart in my bosom is black as a sloe!
I heed not cuckoo, nor wren, nor swallow:
Like a flying leaf in the sky’s blue hollow
The heart in my breast is, that beats so low.

Because of the words your lips have spoken,
(O dear black head that I must not follow)
My heart is a grave that is stripped and hollow,
As ice on the water my heart is broken.

O lips forgetful and kindness fickle,
The swallow goes south with you: I go west
Where fields are empty and scythes at rest.
I am the poppy and you the sickle;
My heart is broken within my breast.

_Nora Chesson_

VOS NON VOBIS

There was a garden planned in Spring’s young days,
Then Summer held it in her bounteous hand,
And many wandered through its blooming ways,
But ne’er the one for whom the work was planned.
And it was vainly done--
For what are many, if we lack the one?

There was a song that lived within the heart
Long time--and then on Music’s wing it strayed!
All sing it now, all praise its artless art,
But ne’er the one for whom the song was made.
And it was vainly done--
For what are many, if we lack the one!

_Edith M. Thomas_

“OH, THE BURDEN, THE BURDEN OF LOVE UNGIVEN”

Oh, the burden, the burden of love ungiven,
The weight of laughter unshed,
Oh, heavy caresses, unblown tendernesses,
Oh, love-words unsung and unsaid.

Oh, the burden, the burden of love unspoken,
The cramp of silence close-furled,
To lips that would utter, to hands that would scatter
Love’s seed on the paths of the world.

Oh, the heavy burden of love ungiven:
My breast doth this burden bear;
Deep in my bosom the unblown blossom--
My world-love that withers there.

_Grace Fallow Norton_

“I SAT AMONG THE GREEN LEAVES”

I sat among the green leaves, and heard the nuts falling,
The blood-red butterflies were gold against the sun,
But in between the silence and the sweet birds calling
The nuts fell one by one.

Why should they fall and the year but half over?
Why should sorrow seek me and I so young and kind?
The leaf is on the bough and the dew is on the clover,
But the green nuts are falling in the wind.

Oh, I gave my lips away and all my soul behind them.
Why should trouble follow and the quick tears start?
The little birds may love and fly with only God to mind them,
But the green nuts are falling on my heart.

_Marjorie L. C. Pickthall_

IN THE PARK

He whistled soft whistlings I knew were for me,
Teasing, endearing.
Won’t you look? was what they said,
But I did not turn my head.
(Only a little I turned my hearing.)

My feet took me by;
Straight and evenly they went:
As if they had not dreamed what he meant:
As if such a curiosity
Never were known since the world began
As woman wanting man!

My heart led me past and took me away;
And yet it was my heart that wanted to stay.

_Helen Hoyt_

THE ENCHANTED SHEEP-FOLD

The hills far-off were blue, blue,
The hills at hand were brown;
And all the herd-bells called to me
As I came by the down.

The briars turned to roses--roses,
Ever we stayed to pull
A white little rose, and a red little rose,
And a lock of silver wool.

Nobody heeded,--none, none;
And when True Love came by,
They thought him nought but the shepherd-boy.
Nobody knew but I!

The trees were feathered like birds, birds;
Birds were in every tree.
Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,
Nobody knew, save we.

And he is fairer than all,--all.
How could a heart go wrong?
For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,
Like an old, old song.

_Josephine Preston Peabody_

A BIRTHDAY

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot:
My heart is like an apple tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

_Christina Rossetti_

FOUND

Oh, when I saw your eyes,
So old it was, so new, the hushed surprise:
After a long, long search, it came to be,
Home folded me.

And looking up, I saw
The far, first stars like tapers to my awe,
In the dim hands of hid, benignant Powers,
At search long hours.

And did they hear us call,
That they have found us children after all?
And did you know, O Wonderful and Dear,
That I was here?

_Josephine Preston Peabody_

CHOICE

Of all the souls that stand create
I have elected one.
When sense from spirit flies away,
And subterfuge is done;

When that which is and that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;

When figures show their royal front
And mists are carved away,--
Behold the atom I preferred
To all the lists of clay!

_Emily Dickinson_

“SO BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE INDEED”

So beautiful you are, indeed,
That I am troubled when you come,
And though I crave you for my need,
Your nearness strikes me blind and dumb.

And when you bring your lips to mine
My spirit trembles and escapes,
And you and I are turned divine,
Bereft of our familiar shapes.

And fearfully we tread cold space,
Naked of flesh and winged with flame,
... Until we find us face to face,
Each calling on the other’s name!

_Irene Rutherford McLeod_

AN INCANTATION

O strong sun of heaven, harm not my love,
Sear him not with your flame, blind him not with your beauty,
Shine for his pleasure!

O gray rains of heaven, harm not my love,
Drown not in your torrent the song of his heart,
Lave and caress him!

O swift winds of heaven, harm not my love,
Bruise not nor buffet him with your rough humor,
Sing you his prowess!

O mighty triad, strong ones of heaven,
Sun, rain and wind, be gentle, I charge you;
For your mad mood of wrath have me, I am ready--
But spare him, my lover, most proud and most dear--
O sun, rain and wind, strong ones of heaven!

_Marguerite Wilkinson_

LOVE SONG

There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.

There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.

Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.

All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.
The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless--
Your name, your name.

_Mary Carolyn Davies_

THE HEART’S COUNTRY

Hill people turn to their hills;
Sea folk are sick for the sea:
Thou art my land and my country,
And my heart calls out for thee.

The bird beats his wings for the open,
The captive burns to be free;
But I--I cry at thy window,
For thou art my liberty.

_Florence Wilkinson_

RHAPSODY

As the mother bird to the waiting nest,
As the regnant moon to the sea,
As joy to the heart that hath first been blest--
So is my love to me.

Sweet as the song of the lark that soars
From the net of the fowler free,
Sweet as the morning that song adores--
So is my love to me!

As the rose that blossoms in matchless grace
Where the canker may not be,
As the well that springs in a desert place--
So is my love to me.

_Florence Earle Coates_

“WHEN ON THE MARGE OF EVENING”

When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar,
Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken,
On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning’s dying star,

I think of thee (oh mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!)
Whose greater noonday splendors the many share and see,
While sacred and forever, some perfect law is keeping
The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me.

_Louise Imogen Guiney_

“BELOVÈD, MY BELOVÈD, WHEN I THINK”

Belovèd, my belovèd, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sat alone here in the snow,
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice, but link by link,
Went counting all my chains as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand,--why, thus I drink
Of life’s great cup of wonder! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech, nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,
Who cannot guess God’s presence out of sight.

_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

APOLOGY

Be not angry with me that I bear
Your colors everywhere,
All through each crowded street,
And meet
The wonder-light in every eye,
As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,
Blinded by rainbow haze,
The stuff of happiness,
No less,
Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds
Of peacock golds.

Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way
Flushes beneath its gray.
My steps fall ringed with light,
So bright,
It seems a myriad suns are strown
About the town.

Around me is the sound of steepled bells,
And rich perfumèd smells
Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,
And shroud
Me from close contact with the world.
I dwell impearled.

You blazon me with jeweled insignia.
A flaming nebula
Rims in my life. And yet
You set
The word upon me, unconfessed
To go unguessed.

_Amy Lowell_

RAIN

I have always hated the rain,
And the gloom of grayed skies.
But now I think I must always cherish
Rain-hung leaf and the misty river;
And the friendly screen of dripping green
Where eager kisses were shyly given
And your pipe-smoke made clouds in our damp, close heaven.

The curious laggard passed us by,
His wet shoes soughed on the shining walk.
And that afternoon was filled with a blurred glory--
That afternoon, when we first talked as lovers.

_Jean Starr Untermeyer_

THE NAME

I’ve learned to say it carelessly,
So no one else can see
By any little look or sign
How dear it is to me.

But, oh, the thrill, as though you kissed
My tingling finger-tips
Each time the golden syllables
Fall lightly from my lips!

_Williamina Parrish_

“I LEANED OUT MY WINDOW”

I leaned out my window, I smelt the white clover,
Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;
Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover--
Hush, nightingale, hush! Oh, sweet nightingale, wait
Till I listen and hear
If a step draweth near,
For my love he is late!

“The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer,
A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree,
The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer:
To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see?
Let the star-clusters grow,
Let the sweet waters flow,
And cross quickly to me.

“You night moths that hover where honey brims over
From sycamore blooms, or settle or sleep;
You glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover
To him that comes darkling along the rough steep.
Ah, my sailor, make haste,
For the time runs to waste,
And my love lieth deep--

“Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover,
I’ve conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night.”
By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover,
Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight;
But I’ll love him more, more
Than e’er wife loved before,
Be the day dark or bright.

_Jean Ingelow_

RAIN, RAIN!

Rain, rain,--fall, fall,
In a heavy screen--
That my lover be not seen!

Wind, wind,--blow, blow,
Till the leaves are stirred--
That my lover be not heard!

Storm, storm,--rage, rage,
Like a war around--
That my lover be not found!

... Lark, lark,--hush ... hush ...
Softer music make--
That my lover may not wake....

_Zoë Akins_

THE HAWTHORN TREE

Across the shimmering meadows--
Ah, when he came to me!
In the spring-time,
In the night-time,
In the starlight,
Beneath the hawthorn tree.

Up from the misty marshland--
Ah, when he climbed to me!
To my white bower,
To my sweet rest,
To my warm breast,
Beneath the hawthorn tree.

Ask of me what the birds sang,
High in the hawthorn tree;
What the breeze tells,
What the rose smells,
What the stars shine--
Not what he said to me!

_Willa Sibert Cather_

ECSTASY

Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong.
Oh, silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!

Shelter my soul, O my Love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain;
Oh, shelter my soul from thy face!

_Sarojini Naidu_

THE MAN WITH A HAMMER

My Dear was a mason
And I was his stone.
And quick did he fashion
A house of his own.

As fish in the waters,
As birds in a tree,
So natural and blithe lives
His spirit in me.

_Anna Wickham_

THE GREAT MAN

I cannot always feel his greatness.
Sometimes he walks beside me, step by step,
And paces slowly in the ways--
The simple, wingless ways
That my thoughts tread. He gossips with me then,
And finds it good;
Not as an eagle might, his great wings folded, be content
To walk a little, knowing it his choice,
But as a simple man,
My friend.
And I forget.

Then suddenly a call floats down
From the clear airy spaces,
The great keen, lonely heights of being.
And he who was my comrade hears the call
And rises from my side, and soars,
Deep-chanting, to the heights.
Then I remember.
And my upward gaze goes with him, and I see
Far off against the sky
The glint of golden sunlight on his wings.

_Eunice Tietjens_