An apple orchard smells like wine; A succory flower is blue; Until Grief touched these eyes of… Such things I never knew. And now indeed I know so plain

The spicewood burns along the gray… In moist unchimneyed places, in a… That whips it all before, and all… Into one thick, rude flame, now lo… It is the first, the homeliest thi…

A serviceable thing Is fennel, mint, or balm, Kept in the thrifty calm Of hollows, in the spring; Or by old houses pent.

The little Jesus came to town; The wind blew up, the wind blew do… Out in the street the wind was bol… Now who would house Him from the… Then opened wide a stable door,

There’s never a rose upon the bush… And never a bud on any tree; In wood and field nor hint nor sig… Of one green thing for you or me. Come in, come in, sweet love of mi…

I am too near, too clear a thing f… A flower of mullein in a crack of… The villagers half see, or not at… Part of the weather, like the wind… You love to pluck the different, a…

A Colonial Custom Bathsheba came out to the sun, Out to our wallèd cherry-trees; The tears adown her cheek did run, Bathsheba standing in the sun,

Brother of mine, good monk with co… Walled from that world which thou… And pacing thy green close beyond… I send my heart to thee. Down gust-sweet walks, bordered by…

Wild rockets blew along the lane; The tall white gentians too were t… The mullein stalks were brave agai… Of blossoms was the bramble bare; And toward the pasture bars below

Snatch the departing mood; Make yours its emptying reed, and… Faith in the time, faith in our co… Faith in the least of good: Song cannot fail if these its spir…

This is the house where I was bre… The wind blows through it without… The wind bitten by the roadside mi… Here brake I loaf, here climbed t… The fuchsia on the window sill;

Oh, gray and tender is the rain, That drips, drips on the pane! A hundred things come in the door, The scent of herbs, the thought of… I see the pool out in the grass,

OH, the littles that remain! Scent of mint out in the lane; Flare of window; sound of bees;— These, but these. Three times sitting down to bread;

Love came back at fall o’ dew, Playing his old part; But I had a word or two That would break his heart. ‘He who comes at candlelight,