Thou sit’st among the sunny silenc… Of terraced hills and woodland gal… Thou utterance of all calm melodie… Thou lutanist of Earth’s most aff… Where no false note intrudes

I saw a name carved on a tree— ‘Julia’; A simpler name there could not be— Julia: But seeing it I seemed to see

LOW, weed-climbed cliffs, o’er wh… The sea-mists swoon: Wind-twisted pines, through which… Goes winging slow: Dim fields, the sower never sows,

Deep-hearted roses of the purple d… And lilies of the morn; And cactus, holding up a slender t… Of fragrance on a thorn; All heavy flowers, sultry with the…

THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed

THE SONG-BIRDS? are they flo… The song-birds of the summer-time, That sang their souls into the day… And set the laughing days to rhyme… No catbird scatters through the hu…

Around, the stillness deepened; th… Went wild with wind; and every bri… Was swept with dust; and then, tem… Hillward the tempest heaved a mons… That on the thunder leaned as on a…

You have shut me out from your tea… Over the man laid low and hoary. Listen to me now: I am no thief! You have shut me out from your tea… Listen to me, I will tell my stor…

He stands above all worldly schism… And, gazing over life’s abysm Beholds within the starry range Of heaven laws of death and change… That, through his soul’s prophetic…

Weeds and dead leaves, and leaves… With hues of rust and rose whence… Gnarl’d thorns, from which the kno… On paths the gray moss heaps. One golden flower, like a dreamy t…

THERE is a glory in the apple bo… Of silver moonlight; like a torch… Burning upon an altar of sweet vow… Dropped from the hand of some wan… And there is life among the apple…

The unpretentious flowers of the w… That rise in bright and banded bro… Waving us welcome, and with kisses… Laying their lives down underneath… Lesson my soul more than the tomes…

The wind that breathes of columbin… And celandines that crowd the rock… That shakes the balsam of the pine… With laughter from his airy locks, Stops at my city door and knocks.

Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.

I belt the morn with ribboned mist… With baldricked blue I gird the n… And dusk with purple, crimson-kiss… White-buckled with the hunter’s mo… These follow me, the season says: