He had gone away without good-bye,
A thing he never would have done;
For nobody loved him more than I—
Except, perhaps, the sun.
And the sun—when I said, "O tell me where!"
Though it showed me some open pasture-bars
Into the pa [...]
Changes of light are living things
And flit along the brook;
On a willow-limb their images
Are wounded wings of smoke.
Two ways of life make the design,
The brook's way with the sun is mine;
The willow's way is yours.
OUT of my western window
The purple clouds are dying
Edged with fire;
And out of my eastern window
The full round moon is rising
Formed of ice.
Although the day go by
And the night come on forever,
Is this momentary worl [...]
Spring is a wild thing for sure,—
What wilder ever ran!
But once in a while he will rub at the door
Of almost any man.
And here he is at my own sill,
Whining for me to know,—
Until I peer outside and feel
A flurry in the snow,
Find a clou [...]
By a wall that circles the three Ch'in districts, In a mist that makes five rivers one, We bid each other a sad farewell, We two official wanderers. . . . And yet, while the Four Seas bind our friendship And heaven remains our neighborhood [...]