Creep into my heart, creep in, cre… Afar from the fret, the toil and t… Where the spring of love forever f… As clear as light and as sweet as… (Creep into my heart),

I have seen things that charmed th… Faint moonlight on the towers of a… Flattering the soul to dream of ol… The first clear silver on the moun… Where the lone eagle by his chilly…

The Muse is stern unto her favour… Giving to some the keys of all the… Of the green earth, but holding ev… Back from their life; Bidding them feed on hope,

O turn once more! The meadows where we mused and str… Abound and glow yet with the ruby… ’Twas there the bluebirds fought a… Their quarrel was a flying bluebir…

The night is old, and all the worl… Is wearied out with strife; A long gray mist lies heavy and wa… Above the house of life. Four stars burn up and are unquell…

Where love is life The roses blow, Though winds be rude And cold the snow, The roses climb

(Aetat Six) Now every night we light the grate And I sit up till _really_ late; My Father sits upon the right, My Mother on the left, and I

Here is the height of land: The watershed on either hand Goes down to Hudson Bay Or Lake Superior; The stars are up, and far away

Gather the leaves from the forest And blow them over the world, The wind of winter follows The wind of autumn furled. Only the beech tree cherishes

HERE Morris, on the plains that… Think of the death of Akoose, fle… Who, in his prime, a herd of antel… From sunrise, without rest, a hund… Drove through rank prairie, loping…

I DWELL in the sea that is wild… But afar in a shadow still, I can see the trees that gather an… In the wood upon the hill. The deeps are green as an emerald’…

Those we have loved the dearest, The bravest and the best, Are summoned from the battle To their eternal rest; There they endure the silence,

Once in the winter Out on a lake In the heart of the north-land, Far from the Fort And far from the hunters,

I gave her a rose in early June, Fed with the sun and the dew, Each petal I said is a note in th… The rose is the whole tune through… The tune is the whole red-hearted…

Rufus Gale speaks—1852 Yes,—in the Lincoln Militia,—in t… Many’s the day I’ve had since the… But those are the years I remembe… When we left the plow in the furro…