Lay him down where the fern is thi… Fain was he for life, here lies he… With the blood washed clean from h… Lay him here in the dell where the… Let the birch-bark torches roar in…

Wind of the gentle summer night, Dwell in the lilac tree, Sway the blossoms clustered light, Then blow over to me. Wind, you are sometimes strong and…

An angel burdened with self-pity Came out of heaven to a modern cit… He saw a beggar on the street, Where the tides of traffic meet. A pair of brass-bound hickory pegs

Here in the midnight, where the da… Shadows mingle in shadow deeper, p… Sing we the hymns of the churches,… Whispers before us. Thunder is travelling slow on the…

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;

O ship incoming from the sea With all your cloudy tower of sail… Dashing the water to the lee, And leaning grandly to the gale, The sunset pageant in the west

Dawn-cool, dew-cool Gleams the surface of my pool Bird haunted, fern enchanted, Where but tempered spirits rule; Stars do not trace their mystic li…

Here in the inmost of the master’s… This violet crisp with early dew Has come to leave her beauty and t… With all her vivid hue. And while in hollow glades and del…

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…

O noble youth that held our honour… And bore it sacred through the bat… How shall we give full measure of… To thy sharp labour, thy immortal… For though we sowed with doubtful…

Here there is balm for every tende… Wounded by life; Rest for each one who bore a valia… Crushed in the strife. I suffered there and held a losing…

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

Now the November skies, And the clouds that are thin and g… That drop with the wind away; A flood of sunlight rolls, In a tide of shallow light,

Some men are born to gather women’… To give a harbour to their timorou… To take them as the dry earth take… As the dark wood the warm wind fro… Yet their own tears remain unshed,

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…