We tightened stirrup; buckled rein… Looked to our saddle-girths again; Shook hands all round; then mounte… The gate swung wide: we said, ‘Go… No time for talk had Bell and I.

Here is a tale for sportsmen when… There was a boar, like that Atala… Who gorged and snored and, unmoles… His fat way through the world as s… Huge-jowled and paunched and porci…

An Oldham-County Weather Philoso… ‘Who is Corncob Jones?’ you say. Beateningest man and talkingest: Talk and talk th’ enduring day, Never even stop to rest,

Thou art the music that I hear in… The poetry that lures me on in dre… The magic, thou, that holds my tho… Of young romance in revery’s mysti… The lily’s aura, and the damask de…

Sing, Hey, when the time rolls ro… And the bells peal out, ’Tis Chri… The world is better then by half, For joy, for joy; In a little while you will see it…

The hillside smokes With trailing mist around the rosy… While sunset builds A gorgeous Asia in the west she g… Auroral streaks

John-a-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,

This was my dream: It seemed the afternoon Of some deep tropic day; and yet t… Stood round and bright with golden… High in a heaven bluer than the se…

An hour from dawn: The snow sweeps on As it swept with sleet last night: The Earth around Breathes never a sound,

We were a crew of what you please, Men with the lust of gold gone mad… Dutch and Yankee and Portuguese, With a nigger or two from Trinida… The scum of the Caribbees:

There are haunters of the silence,… I have sat with them and hearkened… I have shuddered from their coming… And have cursed them and have bles… At my door I see their shadows; i…

In girandoles of gladioles The day had kindled flame; And Heaven a door of gold and pea… Unclosed when Morning, like a gir… A red rose twisted in a curl,

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;

THERE is a house beside a way, Where dwells a ghost of Yesterday… The old face of a beauty, faded, Looks from its garden: and the sha… Long walks of locust-trees, that s…

I cannot tell what I would tell t… What I would say, what thou shoul… Words of the soul that should comp… Words of the heart to draw thee ne… For when thou smilest, thou, who f…