Will the blight end the chestnut? The farmers rather guess not. It keeps smouldering at the roots And sending up new shoots Till another parasite

A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New… Ancestral memories might come together. And those of the name Stark gathered in… A rock-strewn town where farming has fal…

Never ask of money spent Where the spender thinks it went. Nobody was ever meant To remember or invent What he did with every cent.

First under up and then again down under… We watch a circus of revolving dogs No senator dares in to kick asunder Lest both should bite him in the toga-to…

We chanced in passing by that afternoon To catch it in a sort of special picture Among tar-banded ancient cherry trees, Set well back from the road in rank lodg… The little cottage we were speaking of,

Poetry is when an emotion has found its…

He would declare and could himself belie… That the birds there in all the garden r… From having heard the daylong voice of… Had added to their own an oversound, Her tone of meaning but without the word…

She had no saying dark enough For the dark pine that kept Forever trying the window latch Of the room where they slept. The tireless but ineffectual hands

Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for… Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shore?

The mountain held the town as in a shado… I saw so much before I slept there once… I noticed that I missed stars in the we… Where its black body cut into the sky. Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wal…

He is said to have been the last Red ma… In Action. And the Miller is said to h… If you like to call such a sound a laugh… But he gave no one else a laugher’s lice… For he turned suddenly grave as if to sa…

The surest thing there is is we are ride… And though none too successful at it, gu… Through everything presented, land and t… And now the very air, of what we ride. What is this talked-of mystery of birth

The rain to the wind said, ‘You push and I’ll pelt.’ They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged– though not dead.

The sound of the closing outside door wa… You made no sound in the grass with your… As far as you went from the door, which… But you had awakened under the morning s… The first song-bird that awakened all th…