Ha! My dear! I’m back again— Vendor of Bohemia’s wares! Lordy! How it pants a man Climbing up those awful stairs! Well, I’ve made the dealer say

Low hidden in among the forest tre… An artist’s tilted easel, ankle-de… In tousled ferns and mosses, and i… A fluffy water-spaniel, half aslee… Beside a sketch-book and a fallen…

O heart of mine, we shouldn’t Worry so! What we’ve missed of calm we could… Have, you know! What we’ve met of stormy pain,

I’ve thought a power on men and th… As my uncle ust to say,— And ef folks don’t work as they pr… W’y, they ain’t no use to pray! Ef you want somepin’, and jes dead…

What makes you come HERE fer, M… So much to our house?—SAY? Come to see our big sister!— An’ Charley he says 'at you kisse… An’ he ketched you, th’uther day!—

At Union Station 'Ll where in the world my eyes has… Ef I hain’t missed that train ag’… Chuff! And whistle! And toot! An… But blast and blister the dasted t…

First she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus’ like we did When Mother died,—and we all said

The winds have talked with him con… The trees have whispered to him; a… Hath held him gently as a mother m… And taught him all sad tones of me… The mountains have bowed to him; a…

For you, I could forget the gay Delirium of merriment, And let my laughter die away In endless silence of content. I could forget, for your dear sake…

The ticking—ticking—ticking of the… That vexed me so last night—! ‘Fo… Such drowsy watch,’ I moaned, ‘he… But only nods above the world to m… Its restless occupant, then rudely…

Always suddenly they are gone— The friends we trusted and held se… Suddenly we are gazing on, Not a _smiling_ face, but the marb… Dead mask of a face that nevermore

Hey, Old Midsummer! are you here… With all your harvest-store of old… Vast overhanging meadow-lands of r… And drowsy dawns, and noons when g… Nods in the sun, and lazy truant b…

If I knew what poets know, Would I write a rhyme Of the buds that never blow In the summer-time? Would I sing of golden seeds

To hear her sing—to hear her sing— It is to hear the birds of Spring In dewy groves on blooming sprays Pour out their blithest roundelays… It is to hear the robin trill

Just the airiest, fairiest slip of… With a Gainsborough hat, like a b… Tilted up at one side with the jau… And a knot of red roses sown in un… Where the shadows are lost in her…