Canst thou not understand a nature strong
      And passionate, with impulses that sway,
      With yearning tenderness that must have way,
    Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong? 
      If thou canst not then in God’s name I pray
      See me no more forever from this day.

Shadow Song.

    The night is long
      And there are no stars,—­
        Let me but dream
        That the long fields gleam
    With sunlight and song,
    Then I shall not long
      For the light of stars.

    Let me but dream,—­
      For there are no stars,—­
        Dream that the ache
        And the wild heart-break
    Are but things that seem. 
    Ah! let me dream
      For there are no stars.

Revulsion.

    I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam
      In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,
      The blessed April air blows soft and cool,
    Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,
      And we forget that close around us lie
      A city’s poor, a city’s misery.

    Of every outward vision there is some
      Internal counterpart.  To-day I know
      The blessedness of living, and the glow
    Of life’s dear spring-tide.  I can bid thee come
      In thought and wander where the fields are fair
      With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.

    Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale
      Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death
      Upon my brow, have measured out my breath
    Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail
      At every footfall in the quiet night
      And clutch their gold and count it in affright.

    I learned new lessons in that school of fear,
      Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave
      The view is from the threshold of the grave. 
    In that long, backward glance I saw her clear
      From fogs of gathering night, and all the show
      Of small things that seemed great a while ago.

    Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call
      Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,
      Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood
    Of this new light they faded, poor and small;
      Showing our pettiness beside God’s truth,
      Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.

    The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days
      Of its maturity, the ample sweets
      Of Summer’s fulness; and its great heart beats
    With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays
      Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,
      Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.

    And I,—­I shall be happy,—­promise me
      This one small thing, Beloved, for I long
      For happiness as the caged bird for song. 
    Not where four walls close in the melody
      I want the fresh, sweet air, the water’s gush,
      The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.