Last night I got to thinkin' of the pleasant long ago, When I still had on knee breeches, an' I wore a flowing bow, An' my Sunday suit was velvet. Ma an' Pa thought it was fine, But I know I didn't like it—either velvet or design; It was far too girlish for me, for I wanted something rough Like what other boys were wearing, but Ma wouldn't buy such stuff. Ma answered all my protests in her sweet an kindly way; She said it didn't matter what I wore to run an' play, But on Sundays when all people went to church an wore their best, Her boy must look as stylish an' as well kept as the rest. So she dressed me up in velvet, an' she tied the flowing bow, An' she straightened out my stockings, so that not a crease would show. An' then I chuckled softly to myself while dreaming there An' I saw her standing o'er me combing out my tangled hair. I could feel again the tugging, an' I heard the yell I gave When she struck a snarl, an' softly I could hear her say: 'Be brave. 'Twill be over in a minute, and a little man like you Shouldn't whimper at a little bit of pain the way you do.' Oh, I wouldn't mind the tugging at my scalp lock, and I know That I'd gladly wear to please her that old flowing girlish bow; And I think I'd even try to don once more that velvet suit, And blush the same old blushes, as the women called me cute, Could the dear old mother only take me by the hand again, And be as proud of me right now as she was always then. ..

Our ruler to the hunt proceeds; And black as iron are his steeds That heed the charioteer's command, Who holds the six reins in his hand. His favorites follow to the chase, Rejoicing in his special grace. The season's males, alarmed, arise-- The season's males, of wondrous size. Driven by the beaters, forth they spring, Soon caught within the hunters' ring. 'Drive on their left,' the ruler cries; And to its mark his arrow flies. The hunting done, northward he goes; And in the park the driver shows The horses' points, and his own skill That rules and guides them at his will. Light cars whose teams small bells display, The long-and short-mouthed dogs convey. ..

SWEET, I have loved before. I know This longing that invades my days; This shape that haunts life's busy ways I know since long and long ago. This starry mystery of delight That floats across my eager eyes, This pain that makes earth Paradise, These magic songs of day and night-- I know them for the things they are: A passing pain, a longing fleet, A shape that soon I shall not meet, A fading dream of veil and star. Yet, even as my lips proclaim The wisdom that the years have lent, Your absence is joy's banishment, And life's one music is your name. I love you to my heart's hid core: Those other loves? how should one learn From marshlights how the great fires burn? Ah, no! I never loved before! ..

Bright eyes, sweet lips, with many fevers fill The young blood, running wildly, as it must; But lips and eyes beget a strange distrust. Electric fingers send the sudden thrill Through senses unsubservient to the will; The flames die down, and leave a dim disgust; Unfragrant kisses turn to drouth and dust; I kiss; I feast; but I am hungry still. O woman, woman, passionate but strong! True to thy love as needle to the pole - True to the truth, and not alone to me - O mate and friend, elusive in the throng, With thy clear brows, thy straight and upright soul, Nameless - unknown - my hunger is for thee! ..