There are some souls Whose lot it is to set their heart… That adverse Fate controls. While others win With little labor through life’s d…

And these are Christians! God! th… How long, O Lord! how long, O Lo… Wilt Thou endure this crime? and… Look down on Earth nor sweep away… Are these Thy teachings? Where is…

And the boy that lives next door Said to me one day, There’s more In those rhymes of Mother Goose And those tales, I don’t care who… Arabian Nights or Grimm’s, or, we…

Rain and black night. Beneath the… The rushing Fork that roars among… Nothing is out. Nothing? What’s t… The long grey road upon the rain-s… A horseman! No! A mask! As hewn…

Passion? not hers! who held me wit… One hand among the deep curls of h… I drank the girlhood of her gaze w… She never sighed, nor gave me kiss… So have I seen a clear October po…

Around, the stillness deepened; th… Went wild with wind; and every bri… Was swept with dust; and then, tem… Hillward the tempest heaved a mons… That on the thunder leaned as on a…

Dull, dimly gleaming, The dawn looks downward Where, flowing townward, The river, steaming With mist, is hidden:

WITH her fair face she made my h… Beneath whose stars and moon and s… I worshiped, praying, having striv… For wealth through which she might… And yet she had no soul: A woman

THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed

This is the heart’s own day: With dreaming eyes Life seems to look away Beyond the skies Into some long-gone May.

The cuckoo-sorrel paints with pink The green page of the meadow-land Around a pool where thrushes drink As from a hollowed hand. A hill, long-haired with leathered…

The mornings raise Voices of gold in the Almighty’s… The sunsets soar In choral crimson from far shore t… Each is a blast,

A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…

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,

Booted and spurred he rode toward… A rose, from the woman who loved h… Lay warm with her kisses there in… And the battle beacons were burnin… As over the draw he galloping went…