A deep bell that links the downs To the drowsy air; Every loop of sound that swoons, Finds a circle fair, Whereon it doth rest and fade;

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

At Bethlehem upon the hill, The day was done, the night was ni… The dusk was deep and had its will… The stars were very small and stil… Like unblown tapers, faint and hig…

Tossed like a falcon from the hunt… A sweeping plunge, a sudden shatte… And thou hast dared, with a long s… The elastic stairway to the rising… Peril below thee and above, peril

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,

All my life long I heard the step Of some one I would know, Break softly in upon my days And lightly come and go. A foot so brisk I said must bear

Here where the cypress tall Shadows the stucco wall, Bronze and deep, Where the chrysanthemums blow, And the roses—blood and snow—

THE slender moon and one pale sta… A rose leaf and a silver bee From some god’s garden blown afar, Go down the gold deep tranquilly. Within the south there rolls and g…

With a golden rolling sound Booming came a bell, From the aery in the tower Eagles fell; So with regal wings

Dear Morris—here is your letter— Can my answer reach you now? Fate has left me your debtor, You will remember how; For I went away to Nantucket,

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

The shore-lark soars to his topmos… Sings at the height where morning… What though his voice be lost in t… The light comes dropping from his… Mount, my soul, and sing at the he…

She is free of the trap and the pa… The portage and the trail, But something behind her savage li… Shines like a fragile veil. Her dreams are undiscovered,

O if love were had for asking, In the markets of the town, Hardly a lass would think to wear A fine silken gown: But love is had by grieving

The Earth moans in her sleep Like an old mother Whose sons have gone to the war, Who weeps silently in her heart Till dreams comfort her.