The two men in the road were taken… The lovers came out shading their… And never was white so white, or b… As her cheeks and hair. ‘There ar… A man might turn into a wood for,…

TALL nettles cover up, as they h… These many springs, the rusty harr… Long worn out, and the roller made… Only the elm butt tops the nettles… This corner of the farmyard I lik…

THE rock-like mud unfroze a littl… Ran and sparkled down each side of… Under the catkins wagging in the h… But earth would have her sleep out… Nor did I value that thin gilding…

The green elm with the one great b… Lets leaves into the grass slip, o… The short hill grass, the mushroom… Harebell and scabious and tormenti… That blackberry and gorse, in dew…

Yes, I remember Adlestrop— The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up… Unwontedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared…

There was a weasel lived in the su… With all his family, Till a keeper shot him with his gu… And hung him up on a tree, Where he swings in the wind and ra…

I have come to the borders of slee… The unfathomable deep Forest where all must lose Their way, however straight, Or winding, soon or late;

Harry, you know at night The larks in Castle Alley Sing from the attic’s height As if the electric light Were the true sun above a summer v…

he summer nests uncovered by autum… Some torn, others dislodged, all d… Everyone sees them: low or high in… Or hedge, or single bush, they han… Since there’s no need of eyes to s…

As the clouds that are so light, Beautiful, swift, and bright, Cast shadows on field and park Of the earth that is so dark, And even so now, light one!

The forest ended. Glad I was To feel the light, and hear the hu… Of bees, and smell the drying gras… And the sweet mint, because I had… To an end of forest, and because

There they stand, on their ends, t… That once were underwood of hazel… In Jenny Pink’s copse. Now, by t… Close packed, they make a thicket… Can creep through with the mouse a…

The green roads that end in the fo… Are strewn with white goose feathe… Life marks left behind by someone… To show his track. But he has nev… Down each green road a cottage loo…

Mother, the root of this little ye… Among the stones has the taste of… Things are strange to-day on the c… And the grasshopper works at his s… So hard. Here’s one on my hand, m…

Not the end: but there’s nothing m… Sweet Summer and Winter rude I have loved, and friendship and l… The crowd and solitude: But I know them: I weary not;