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,

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

A long the thousand roads of Fran… Now there, and here, swift as a gl… A cloud, a mist blown down the sky… Good Joan of Arc goes riding by. In Domremy at candlelight,

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…

Fathered by March, the daffodils… First, all the air grew keen with… And once a thrush from out some ho… On a field’s edge, where whitening… Fluted the last unto the budding y…

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,

Battles nor songs can from oblivio… But Fame upon a white deed loves… From out that cup of water Sidney… Not one drop has been spilled.

When I consider Life and its few… A wisp of fog betwixt us and the s… A call to battle, and the battle d… Ere the last echo dies within our… A rose choked in the grass; an hou…

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…

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,

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…

Along the pastoral ways I go, To get the healing of the trees, The ghostly news the hedges know; To hive me honey like the bees, Against the time of snow.

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

Her eyes be like the violets, Ablow in Sudbury lane; When she doth smile, her face is s… As blossoms after rain; With grief I think of my gray hai…

Such special sweetness was about That day God sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year. Their common way the great winds b…