I HEAR you, Brother, I hear you… Down in the alder swamp, Springing your woodland whistle To herald the April pomp! First of the moving vanguard,

I love the stony pasture That no one else will have. The old gray rocks so friendly see… So durable and brave. In tranquil contemplation

THE tall carnations crown the gar… Bowed on their stalks. Said Jock-a-dreams to John-a-nods… ‘What are the odds That we shall wake up here within…

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

MY heart is a garden of dreams Where you walk when day is done, Fair as the royal flowers, Calm as the lingering sun. Never a drouth comes there,

NOW the stars have faded In the purple chill, Lo, the sun is kindling On the eastern hill. Tree by tree the forest

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;

OVER the rim of a lacquered bowl… Where a cold blue water-color stan… I see the wintry breakers roll And heave their froth up the freez… Here in immunity safe and dull,

ALONG the wintry skyline, Crowning the rocky crest, Stands the bare screen of hardwood… Against the saffron west,— Its gray and purple network

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,

THESE things I remember Of New England June, Like a vivid day-dream In the azure noon, While one haunting figure

LORD of the grass and hill, Lord of the rain, White Overlord of will, Master of pain, I who am dust and air

My tent stands in a garden Of aster and golden-rod, Tilled by the rain and the sunshin… And sown by the hand of God, - An old New England pasture

In Memory of John Keats By the Aurelian Wall, Where the long shadows of the cent… From Caius Cestius’ tomb, A weary mortal seeking rest found…

What need have you of praising? C… Some lonely poet no one praises ye… Him rather would I choose, that h… A fellow-craftsman knew him, marke… But you—the whole world praises yo…