«Like a white stone deep in a draw-well lying, / As hard and clear, a memory lies in me. / I cannot strive nor have I heart for striving: / It is such pain and yet such ecstasy. It seems to me that someone looking closely / Into my eyes would see it, patent, pale. / And, seeing, would grow...»
«From my poor sins I am set free. / In lilac dusk the taper smolders; / The dark stole's rigid drapery / Conceals a massive head and shoulders. "Talitha kumi": Is it He / Once more? How fast the heart is beating . . . / A touch: a hand moves absently / The customary cross repeating.»
«Broad gold, the evening colors glow, / The April air is cool and tender. / You should have come ten years ago, / And yet in welcome I surrender. Come here, sit closer in our nook, / And turn gay eyes at what my nurses / Might never glimpse: the blue-bound book / That holds my awkward ch...»
«Give me comfortless seasons of sickness, / Visitations of wrath and of wrong / On my house; Lord, take child and companion, / And destroy the sweet power of song. Thus I pray at each matins, each vespers, / After these many wearying days, / That the storm-cloud which broods over Russia / ...»