Over the dripping roofs and sunk s… The bells are ringing loud and str… The shout of children dins upon mi… Shrilly, and like a flight of silv… Showers the sweet gossip of the B…

Already in the dew-wrapped vineyar… Dense weights of heat press down.… Shrink in the leaves. From dark a… The nuthatch flings his short reit… And ever as the sun mounts hot and…

Now being on the eve of death, dis… From every mortal hope and earthly… I questioned how my soul might bes… This hand, and this still wakeful… In the brief hours yet left me for…

Yearning upon the faint rose-curve… About her child-sweet mouth and in… And in her eyes watching with eyes… The light and shadow of laughter,… Mute, knowing out two souls might…

The dew is gleaming in the grass, The morning hours are seven, And I am fain to watch you pass, Ye soft white clouds of heaven. Ye stray and gather, part and fold…

The frost that stings like fire up… The loneliness of this forsaken gr… The long white drift upon whose po… I sit in the great silence as one… The rippled sheet of snow where th…

Long hours ago, while yet the morn… Nor sharp athirst had drunk the be… A reaper came, and swung his cradl… Around this stump, and, shearing s… Far round among the clover, ripe f…

The full, clear moon uprose and sp… Her cold, pale splendor o’er the s… A light-strewn path that seemed to… Outward into eternity. Between the darkness and the gleam

With loitering step and quiet eye, Beneath the low November sky, I wandered in the woods, and found A clearing, where the broken groun… Was scattered with black stumps an…

Why weep ye in your innocent toil… Sweet little hands, why halt and t… Full many a wrong note falls, but… Each note to me is like a golden g… Each broken cadence like a mournin…

Beloved, those who moan of love’s… Shall find but little grace with m… Who know too well this passion’s t… To deem that it shall lightly pass… A moment’s interlude in life’s dul…

All day, all day, round the clacki… The weaver’s fingers fly: Gray dreams like frozen mists are… In the hush of the weaver’s eye; A voice from the dusk is calling y…

Once idly in his hall king Olave… Pondering, and with his dagger whi… And one draw near to him with aust… Saying ‘To-morrow is Monday,’ and… The king said nothing, but held fo…

O Power to whom this earthly clim… Is but an atom in the whole, O Poet-heart of Space and Time, O Maker and Immortal Soul, Within whose glowing rings are bou…

To the distance! Ah, the distance… Blue and broad and dim! Peace is not in burgh or meadow, But beyond the rim. Aye, beyond it, far beyond it;