I Half Wish That I

As To The Garden, It Seems To Me Its Chief Fruit Is-blackbirds.

Give Me Love And Work - These Two Only.

If You Cannot Learn To Love Real Art, At Least Learn To Hate Sham Art And Reject It.

The Heart Desires, The Hand Refrains. The Godhead Fires, The Soul Attains.

Late February Days; And Now, At Last, Might You Have Thought That Winter's Woe Was Past; So Fair The Sky Was And So Soft The Air.