THE fireflies across the dusk Are flashing signals through the g… Courageous messengers of light That dare immensities of doom. About the seeding meadow-grass,

Hem and Haw were the sons of sin, Created to shally and shirk; Hem lay ‘round and Haw looked on While God did all the work. Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a pri…

On The Dunes HERE all night on the dunes In the rocking wind we sleep; Watched by the sentry stars, Lulled by the drone of the deep.

WHO called us forth out of darkne… Who set our hands to the toiling,… Darkly they mused, predestined to… Sowing the seed of wisdom, guardin… Little they reckoned privation, hu…

AH, Pierrot, Where is thy Columbine? What vandal could untwine That gay rose-rope of thine, And spill thy joy like wine,

MY tent stands in a garden Of aster and goldenrod, Tilled by the rain and the sunshin… And sown by the hand of God,— An old New England pasture

ON the world’s far edges Faint and blue, Where the rocky ledges Stand in view, Fades the rosy tender

I HEARD the summer sea Murmuring to the shore Some endless story of a wrong The whole world must deplore. I heard the mountain wind

Over the wintry threshold Who comes with joy today, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,

ONCE in the Workshop, ages ago, The clay was wet and the fire was… And He who was bent on fashioning… Moulded a shape from a clod, And put the loyal heart therein;

SHINING, shining children Of the summer rain, Racing down the valley, Sweeping o’er the plain! Rushing through the forest,

NOW the little rivers go Muffled safely under snow, And the winding meadow streams Murmur in their wintry dreams, While a tinkling music wells

Harvard, 1914 SIR, friends, and scholars, we ar… A high occasion. Our New England… All her unrivalled beauty as of ol… And June, with scent of bayberry…

NOW come the rosy dogwoods, The golden tulip-tree, And the scarlet yellow maple, To make a day for me. The ash-trees on the ridges,

I SAID to Life, ‘How comes it, With all this wealth in store, Of beauty, joy, and knowledge, Thy cry is still for more? ’Count all the years of striving