Upon the mossed rock by the spring She sits, forgetful of her pail, Lost in remote remembering Of that which may no more avail. Her thin, pale hair is dimly dress…

Yea, why I love thee let my heart… I look upon thy face and then divi… How men could die for beauty, such… Deeming it sweet To lay my life and manhood at thy…

Far as the eye can see, in domes a… Buttress and curve, ruins of shift… In whose wild making wind and sea… The white dunes stretch. The wind… Striving for strange effects that…

April calling, April calling, April calling me! I hear the voice of April there In each old apple tree: Bee-boom and wild perfume,

Who could describe you, child of m… And silence, born among these soli… Within whose look there is a secre… Old as these wanderingwoods, And knowledge, cousin to the morni…

All hushed of glee, The last chill bee Clings wearily To the dying aster. The leaves dropp faster:

The bubbled blue of morning-glory… Balloon-blown foam of moonflowers,… Of clematis, through which Septem… Song-hearted, rich in realized des… Are flanked by hotter hues: by taw…

There’s a scent of pungent wood sm… And a jack-o’-lantern glare, a wil… ’Tis the brush that burns and smou… The old New England ways, When Autumn plants her gipsy tent…

The deep seclusion of this forest… O’er which the green boughs weave… Along which bluet and anemone Spread dim a carpet; where the Tw… Her cool abode; and, sweet as afte…

Oh, I am going home again, Back to the old house in the lane, And mother! who still sits and sew… With cheeks, each one, a winter ro… A-watching for her boy, you know,

WHAT shall her silence keep Under the sun? Here, where the willows weep And waters run; Here, where she lies asleep,

In classic beauty, cold, immaculat… A voiceful sculpture, stern and st… Upon her brow deep-chiselled love… That sorrow o’er dead roses in her…

Above her, pearl and rose the heav… Around her, flowers flattered eart… Or down the path in insolence held… Like cavaliers who ride the king’s… Scarlet and buff, within a garden…

Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks and fumbles and knocks agai… His long-nailed fingers slip and s… Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks all night but knocks in vai…

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…