The Flower to the Bud
Tiny heart beneath my hand,
Say, what treasures will you hold?
O, what blossom will unfold,
Late to bloom, or soon to fade,
From this bud, my baby-maid?
Through what shallows will you wade,
To what heights will you aspire
In your spirit's white desire?
Will you mar or will you make?
Will you give or will you take?
Will you glow or will you break
With the running of the sand —
Tiny heart beneath my hand?..
SIX SONGS OF GIRLHOOD
Love and the Maidens
He seemed asleep; his wings were wet
With dew; he lay among the flowers,
Sweeter than Spring; his radiant curls
With primrose and with violet
Were crowned; and in a silent ring the girls
Watched, all an April morning's misty hours…
Not one dared wake him – yet each breast
Yearned to be pillow to a thing
So fair. 'How will he smile?' thought they,
'In waking?..' But between them pressed
One who with laughter bore the rogue away,
Ere they had touched a feather of his wing.
Awakenings
The first time she awoke,
Her room was filled with light;
Thought she: They've made a little fire
To warm me through the night…
The next time she awoke,
Sweet music stirred the air;
Thought she: They've brought a magic lyre
To make my dreams more fair…
The third time she awoke,
The dawn-swept sky was gray;
Thought she: I know my heart's desire
Will come to me to-day…
But empty was the street,
And ashen was the hearth;
And the music-maker's nimble feet
Were speeding o'er the earth.
The Clouded Soul
O what have you done with your heart, daughter,
And what have you done to your soul, my dear?
Your heart was like a lily in June,
And your soul as a crystal clear…
O, I've thrown my heart in a well, mother,
For the lily was sick, and needed rain:
O, I've wept a cloud round my soul, mother,
And we never shall see it again…
The Healer
O will you have my heart, sweet maid,
My heart so true, my heart so red?
O will you have my heart, dear maid,
And give me yours instead?
O keep your heart, my good young man,
For mine is wounded, deep and sore;
O keep your heart, my kind young man,
For mine shall love no more…
The Open Door
Why have you locked the door, my maid,
Why have you locked the door?
O! I have let Grief out, she said,
Never to enter more.
Open and set it wide, my maid,
Open and set it wide!
Lest Joy should come one day, he said,
And have to stand outside.
The Fugitive
When she returned to the clouded land,
She held sweet flowers in her hand;
Her eyes were bright
With a beaming light
That none could understand.
Said they: Where, sister, hast thou been?
What hidden gl