White roses, like a mist Upon a terraced height, And 'mid the roses, opal, moonbeam… A fountain falling white. And as the full moon flows,

Three memories hold us ever With longing and with pain; Three memories Time has never Been able to restrain; That in each life remain

The partridge-berry flecks with fl… That leads to ferny hollows where… Drones on the aster. Far away the… Points its deep sapphire with a gl… Here from this height where, clust…

Can one resolve and hunt it from o… This love, this god and fiend, tha… Of many a life, in ways no tongue… No mind divine, nor any word impar… Would not one think the slights th…

Red-Winding from the sleepy town, One takes the lone, forgotten lane Straight through the hills. A bru… Bubbles in thorn-flowers, sweet wi… Where breezes bend the gleaming gr…

Under mossy oak and pine Whispering falls the fountained st… In its pool the lilies shine Silvery, each a moonlight gleam. Roses bloom and roses die

The west builds high a sepulcher Of cloudy granite and of gold, Where twilight’s priestly hours in… The Day like some great king of o… A censer, rimmed with silver fire,

The flute, whence Summer’s dreamy… Drew music, ripening the pinched k… The burly chestnut and the chinqua… Red-rounding-out the oval haws and… Now Winter crushes to his stormy…

If heart be tired and soul be sad As life goes on in homespun clad, Drab, colorless, with much of care… Not even a ribbon in her hair; Heart-broken for the near and new,

His Birthday, October the 7th, 19… RILEY, whose pen has made the wo… Whose Art has kept you young thro… Brimming our hearts with laughter… Holding her faith pure to the very…

COME, let’s climb into our attic… In our house that’s old and gray! Life, you’re old and I’m rheumati… And—it’s close of day. Lay aside your rags and tatters,

Wild ridge on ridge the wooded hil… Between whose breezy vistas gulfs… Pilot great clouds like towering a… And hawk and buzzard breast the az… With many a foaming fall and glimm…

The memory of what we’ve lost Is with us more than what we’ve wo… Perhaps because we count the cost By what we could, yet have not don… ‘Twixt act and purpose fate hath d…

The acorn-oak Sullens to sombre crimson all its… And where it hugely heaves A giant head dark as congested blo… The gum-tree towers, against the s…

There’s a little fairy who Peeps from every dropp of dew: You can see him wink and shine On the morning-glory vine, Mischief in his eye of blue.