The Inn of Dreams

Once long and long ago I did rejoice,
But now I am a stone that falls and falls.
A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls,
Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see
The terrible beauty of those simple things
My soul disdained when she was proud and free.
And I can only pray: God pity me,
God pity me and give me back my voice!
God pity me and give me back my wings!

The Storm

What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind?
I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart. I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned,
I only remember the hours when I stood apart
Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced,
And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced.

Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry,
The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness
The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by,
And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress,
For heaven is far awa