One moment, the slim cloudflakes s… With their sad sunward faces aureo… And longing lips set downward brig… To take the last sweet hand kiss o… Gone down beyond the closing west…

March is slain; the keen winds fly… Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good-bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well

The thoughts of all the maples who… When the sad landscape turns to co… Yet some for very ruth and sheer d… Hearing the northwind pipe the win… Have fired the hills with beaconin…

What would’st thou have for easeme… When the rude world hath used thee… And care sits at thine elbow day a… Filching thy pleasures like a subt… To me, when life besets me in such…

Friend, though thy soul should bur… Thoughts were not meant for strife… He that sees clear is gentlest of… And that’s not truth that hath the… The whole world’s thought shall no…

I1. Breathers of wisdom won without a… . Quaint uncouth dreamers, voices hi… .

Beyond the dusky corn-fields, towa… Dotted with farms, beyond the shal… Through drifts of elm with quiet p… Curved white and slender as a lady… Faint and far off out of the autum…

Once, long ago, before the gods Had left this earth, by stream and… Where the first plough upturned th… Or the lost shepherd strayed, Often to the tired listener’s ear

One after one the high emotions fa… Time’s wheeling measure empties an… Year after year; we seek no more t… That lured our youth divine and un… But swarming on some common highwa…

The glittering roofs are still wit… Black chimney builds into the quie… Its curling pile to crumble silent… Far out to westward on the edge of… The slender misty city towers up-b…

To-night the very horses springing… Toss gold from whitened nostrils.… The streets that narrow to the wes… Like rows of golden palaces; and h… From all the crowded chimneys towe…

What do poets want with gold, Cringing slaves and cushioned ease… Are not crusts and garments old Better for their souls than these? Gold is but the juggling rod

All day between high-curded clouds… Shone down like summer on the stea… The long, bright icicles in dwindl… Dripped from the murmuring eaves t… They fell. As if the spring had n…

In Nino’s chamber not a sound int… Upon the midnight’s tingling silen… Where Nino sits before his book a… Thin and brow-burdened with some f… Some gloom that hangs about his mo…

From plains that reel to southward… The road runs by me white and bare… Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be