Roaring winds that rocked the crow… High in his eyrie, All night long, and to and fro Swung the cedar and drove the snow Out of the North, have ceased to…

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…

It’s-Oh, for the hills, where the… With a vagabond foot that follows! And a cheer-up hand that he claps… Your arm with the hearty words, '… We’ll soon be out of the hollows,

Old days, old ways, old homes besi… Old gardens with old-fashioned flo… Poppy, petunia, and many a name Of many a flower of fragrant pedig… Old hills that glow with blue- and…

Some reckon time by stars, And some by hours: Some measure days by dreams, And some by flowers: My heart alone records

WHEN pearl and gold, o’er deeps… The moon curves, silvering the dus… As in a garden, dreaming, A lily slips its dewy husk A firefly in its gleaming,—

From morn till noon upon the windo… The tempest tapped with rainy fing… And all the afternoon the blusteri… Beat at the door with furious feet… The rose, near which the lily bloo…

Once when the park Was very dark I slipped out and went walking; And heard the trees To the summer breeze,

On the barren hillside lone he sat… On his head he wore a tattered hat… In his hand he bore a crooked staf… Never heard I laughter like his l… On the barren hillside, thistle-ho…

The moth and beetle wing about The garden ways of other days; Above the hills, a fiery shout Of gold, the day dies slowly out, Like some wild blast a huntsman bl…

Land-Marks The way is rock and rubbish to a r… That leads through woods of stunte… Into a valley that no flower adorn… One mass of blackened brier; overf…

Clouds of the autumn night, Under the hunter’s moon, Ghostly and windy white, Whither, like leaves wild strewn, Take ye your stormy flight?

This is the heart’s own day: With dreaming eyes Life seems to look away Beyond the skies Into some long-gone May.

All desolate she sate her down Upon the marble of the temple’s st… You would have thought her, with h… Flushed cheeks and hazel hair, A dryad dreaming there.

Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose… A red, red rose, that half uncurls Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: Or like a shell, that, opening, sh… Within its rosy curve white pearls…