Was it a dream, Or a whim of the night? Or did they gleam Upon my sight An instant there in the wan moonli…

The dogs made way for him and snar… And little children to their paren… Big-eyed with fear, when, gruff of… Bent-backed he passed who had the… In old drab coat and trousers, sho…

Small twilight singer Of dew and mist: thou ghost-gray,… Of dusk’s dim glimmer, How chill thy note sounds; how thy… Vibrate, soft-sighing,

Made a face of biscuit-dough, Which our black cook gave me once; And this girl named So-and-So Said ‘t was funnier than a dunce. And she took it; put it on

‘Teach me the wisdom of thy beauty… That, being thus wise, I may aspi… What beauty is, whence, why, and i… Immortal, yet how mortal utterly: For, shrinking loveliness, thy bro…

In dim samite was she bedight, And on her hair a hoop of gold, Like fox-fire in the tawn moonligh… Was glimmering cold. With soft gray eyes she gloomed an…

Through ferns and moss the path wo… A hollow where the touchmenots Swung horns of honey filled with d… And where like foot-prints violets… And bluets made sweet sapphire blo…

Among the fields the camomile Seems blown mist in the lightning’… Cool, rainy odors drench the air; Night speaks above; the angry smil… Of storm within her stare.

Slow sinks the sun, a great carbun… Red in the cavern of a sombre clou… And in her garden, where the dense… Among her dying asters stands the… Like some lone woman in a ruined h…

A lonely barn, lost in a field of… A fallen fence, where partly hangs… The skies are darkening and the ho… The Indian dusk comes, red in rai… Along a path, which from a woodlan…

She passed the thorn-trees, whose… Their spider-shadows round her; an… Beneath the ashen moon, was full o… And mouthed and mumbled to the sic… Like some starved hag who sees her…

Above the circus of the world she… Beautiful and base, a harlot crown… Fierce nations, upon whom she snee… Shrieked at her feet and for her p…

Push back the brambles, berry-blue… The hollowed spring is full in vie… Deep-tangled with luxuriant fern Its rock-embedded, crystal urn. Not for the loneliness that keeps

Dormered and verandaed, cool, Locust-girdled, on the hill; Stained with weather—wear, and dul… Streak’d with lichens; every sill Thresholding the beautiful;

A Little bird sits in our cottonw… And perks his head and sings; And this is the song he pipes to m… While he flirts his tail and wings… ‘Hello! hello!