Nora Jane Hopper Chesson

At the sign of the Beckoning Kitten
We geishas dwell;
Over our doorway is written
“Hail and farewell.”
...

White of skin and brown of hair,
Here he lies who has done with care.
...

The blackbird has a mouth of gold, though sombre be his feathers;
The lark is for the summer noon, the blackbird for all
...

'Tis I go fiddling, fiddling,
By weedy ways forlorn;
I make the blackbird's music
Ere in his breast 'tis born:
...

I am the dream of April, I am the soul of May;
The sallows scatter, the sallows splatter their gold upon my way:
...

I set a charm upon your hurrying breath,
I set a charm upon your wandering feet,
You shall not leave me - not for life, nor death,
...

Red blossoms to the rosy earth I bring:
The sharp-thorned briar for me is all aflush.
I set red holly-hocks a-blossoming
...

Beauty was born of the world's desire
For the wandering water, the wandering fire.
Under the arch of her hurrying feet,
...

I am Brigit-Wisdom, Light: yea, I am Bride.
I loosen all the knots that wrong has tied;
I knot all threads that should be woven in one.
...

If I 'm the faery fool, Dalua-
Ay me, the faery fool!-
How do I know what the rushes say,
Sighing and shivering night and day
...

She had as many loves as she had follies,
And all her light loves lightly sang her praises;
But now, laid low beneath sharp-leaved sea-hollies
...

(A Fairy)

White and golden here she lies;
Mouth-of-Rose was she.
...

White of skin and brown of hair,
Here he lies who has done with care.
...

I purify
With my clear rain the sombre sky;
I wake the snowdrops from their sleep
In the earth's bosom brown and deep.
...

You are the safe and firelit room,
I am the open wold.
You are the city, and this your doom-
Never to feel the outer cold,
...

'Gold of butterflies, gold of bees,
Gold of ragweeds and golden seas;
Gold on gorses for kissing's sake,
Which of these will you touch and take,
...

I sit beneath my fig-tree, while my kine
Pasture around me drowsily, knee-deep
In lilies, chewing sweetest cud of sleep,
...

I am that Helen, that very Helen,
Of Leda, born in the days of old.
Men's hearts were as inns that I might dwell in:
...

I am the spirit of all that lives,
Labours and loses and forgives.
My breath's the wind among the reeds;
I'm wounded when a birch-tree bleeds.
...

He comes from the mountains green
To the yellow shore:
A thousand years he's seen,
And a thousand more.
...