The path runs straight between the… A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds… Where phlox and marigolds dispute… With tall, red dahlias and the bri… 'T is reckless prodigality which t…

As I would free the white almond… So I would strip your trappings o… Beloved. And fingering the smooth and polis… I should see that in my hands glit…

GRASS-BLADES push up between… And catch the sun on their flat si… Shooting it back, Gold and emerald, Into the eyes of passers-by.

Cloud-topped and splendid, dominat… The little lesser hills which comp… Thou standest, bright with April’… Yet holding Winter in some shaded… Of stern, steep rock; and startled…

A black cat among roses, Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-… The sweet smells of heliotrope and… The garden is very still, It is dazed with moonlight,

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in ...

Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,

Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gow… High-waisted, girdled with bright… A straw poke bonnet which hid the… She pluckered her little brows int… As she picked her dainty passage t…

He died of “Stranger’s Fever” whe… Had scarcely melted into manhood,… The chiselled legend runs; a broth… Laid bare for epitaph. The savage… Of a sunny, bright, but alien land…

A flickering glimmer through a win… A dim red glare through mud bespat… Cleaving a path between blown wall… Across uneven pavements sunk in sl… To scatter and then quench itself…

I learnt to write to you in happie… And every letter was a piece I ch… From off my heart, a fragment newl… From the mosaic of life; its blues… Its throbbing reds, I gave to ear…

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our h… The end lost in dream, They float past our view,

Before the Altar, bowed, he stand… With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrifici… Not one of all these has he given,

I have painted a picture of a ghos… Upon my kite, And hung it on a tree. Later, when I loose the string And let it fly,

Wild little bird, who chose thee f… To put upon the cover of this book… Who heard thee singing in the dist… The vague, far greenness of the en… When the damp freshness of the mor…