A QUATRAIN

HARK at the lips of this pink whorl of shell
And you shall hear the ocean’s surge and roar:
So in the quatrain’s measure, written well,
A thousand lines shall all be sung in four!

A HOLLYHOCK

SERAGLIO of the Sultan Bee!
I listen at the waxen door,
And hear the zithern’s melody
And sound of dancing on the floor.

MOONRISE

WITHIN this silent palace of the Night,
See how the moon, like some huge, phantom moth,
Creeps slowly up across the azure cloth
That hangs between the darkness and the light.