THE Season speaks this year of l… Confusing words of strife, Suggesting weeds instead of fruits… In all Earth’s bowers. With heart of Jael, face of Ruth,

There is a place among the Cape A… That looks from fir-dark summits o… Whose surging sapphire changes con… Beneath deep heavens, Morning win… With golden calm, or sunset citade…

There’s a boy who lives next door; And this boy is just as bad As a boy can be; and poor! He’s so poor it makes me sad When I see him. Out at knee;

Wherein is it so beautiful? In all things dim and all things c… In silence, that is built of leave… And wind and spray of waterfall; And, golden as the half-ripe sheav…

Booted and spurred he rode toward… A rose, from the woman who loved h… Lay warm with her kisses there in… And the battle beacons were burnin… As over the draw he galloping went…

Those hewers of the clouds, the W… At the four compass-points,-are ou… I hear their sandals trample on th… I hear their voices trumpet throug… Builders of storm, God’s workmen,…

Deep in her broom-sedge, burs and… Her frost-slain asters and dead ma… Where gray the wilding clematis ba… The brake with puff-balls: where t… Her sombre steps: decked with the…

Why have you come? to see me in my… A thing to spit on, to despise and… And then to ask me! You, by whom… And then cast by, like some vile r… What shelter could you give me, no…

Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, The Spring, as wild wings follow? Where wild-plum trees make wan the… Crabapple trees the hollow, Haunts of the bee and swallow?

Now ’tis the time when, tall, The long blue torches of the bellf… Among the trees; and, by the woode… In many a fragrant ball, Blooms of the button-bush fall.

Lay but a finger on That pallid petal sweet, It trembles gray and wan Beneath the passing feet. But soft! blown rose, we know

I can’t get up with the chickens; I can’t get up at dark: And what do I care for the early… And what do I care for the lark? I can’t do this or that thing;

An evil, stealthy water, dark as h… Sunk from the light of day, ‘Thwart which is hung a ruined wat… Creeps on its stagnant way. Moss and the spawny duckweed, dim…

Blow high, blow low! No longer borrow Care of tomorrow: Take joy of life, and let care go!

In some quaint Nurnberg maler-atelier Uprummaged. When and where was ne… Nor yet how he obtained it. When,… ’Twas painted-who shall say? itsel…