No more to strip the roses from The rose-boughs of her porch’s pla… I dreamed last night that I was h… Beside a rose her face. I must have smiled in sleep who kn…

Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.

The roses mourn for her who sleeps Within the tomb; For her each lily-flower weeps Dew and perfume. In each neglected flower-bed

There is no inspiration in the vie… From where this acorn drops its th… The landscape stretches like a sha… The wrinkled hills hang haggard an… Above them hollows the heaven’s st…

She kneels with haggard eyes and h… Unto the Christ upon the Cross: Her gown is torn; her feet are bar… What is this thing she begs of him… The gentle Christ upon the Cross?

BLACK clouds hung low and heavy, Above the sunset glare; And in the garden dimly We wandered here and there. So full of strife, of trouble

Night and the sea, and heaven over… Cloudless and vast, as ’twere of h… Wherein the facets gleamed of many… And the half-moon a crystal radian… Then suddenly, with burning banner…

He found the road so long and lone That he was fain to turn again. The bird’s faint note, the bee’s l… Seemed to his heart to monotone The unavailing and the vain,

High on a throne of noisome ooze a… ‘Mid rotting trees of bayou and la… Ghastly she sits beneath the skele… A tawny horror coiling at her feet Fever, whose eyes keep watching, s…

Squaw-Berry, bramble, Solomon’s-s… And rattlesnake-weed make wild the… You seem to feel that a Faun will… Or leap before your face. . . . Is that the reel of a Satyr’s hee…

The little tents the wildflowers r… Are tabernacles where Love prays And Beauty preaches all the days. I walk the woodland through and th… And everywhere I see their blue

Here is a tale for all who wish to… There was a thief who, in his cut-… Was hailed as chief; he had a way… Persuasion, masked, behind a weapo… That made it cockrow with each goo…

Little Girlie Good Enough Lives right there across the stree… Neater than a powder-puff, Yes she is, and just as sweet: Bows and ribbons on her hair,

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…

The moth and beetle wing about The garden ways of other days; Above the hills, a fiery shout Of gold, the day dies slowly out, Like some wild blast a huntsman bl…