O all the little rivers that run t… They call me and call me to follow… Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Curr… Dancing and sparkling I see them… I hear the brawling rapid, the thu…

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

OH, the shambling sea is a sexton… And well his work is done. With an equal grave for lord and k… He buries them every one. Then hoy and rip, with a rolling h…

To H. E. C. THERE are sunflowers too in my g… Where now in the early September… The slow autumn sun that goes leis… Of life in the orchards and fir-wo…

Over the hills of April With soft winds hand in hand, Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, Spring leads her saraband. Her garments float and gather

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

The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide Until the coming of the tide.

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…

The rutted roads are all like iron… Are keen and brilliant; only the o… In the bare woods, or the hardy bi… ; Drivers have put their sheepskin j…

There is something in the autumn t… Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and… The scarlet of the maples can shak…

This was a leader of the sons of l… Of winsome cheer and strenuous com… Upon the veteran hordes of Bigot-… All day his vanguard spirit, flami… Bore up the brunt of unavailing fi…

ALL day long beneath the sun Shining through the fields they ru… Singing in a cadence known To the seraphs round the throne. And the traveller drawing near

NOW is the time of year When all the flutes begin,— The redwing bold and clear, The rainbird far and thin. In all the waking lands

IN the wondrous star-sown night, In the first sweet warmth of sprin… I lie awake and listen To hear the glad earth sing. I hear the brook in the wood