LIFE was unkind to him; All things went wrong: Fortune assigned to him Merely a song. Ever a mystery

When the poppies, with their shiel… Sentinel Forest and the harvest fields, In the bell Of a blossom, fair to see,

Once when it had rained all night And all day, the next day, why, In our yard, a lot of white, Dumpy toadstools grew close by Our old peach tree: some were high…

The rain made ruin of the rose and… The lily into tatters: now the Mo… Looks from the hopeless East with… As from her attic looks a dull-eye… The coreopsis drips; the sunflower…

There is a path that leads Through purple iron-weeds, By button-bush and mallow Along a creek; A path that wildflowers hallow,

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?

The old remain, the young are gone… The farm dreams lonely on the hill… From early eve to early dawn A cry goes with the whippoorwill ‘The old remain, the young are gon…

The gray dawn finds me thinking st… Of thee who hadst my thoughts all… Of thee, who art my lute’s sweet s… And of my soul the only light; My star of song to whom I turn

COME in, old Ghost of all that u… You find me old, And love grown cold, And fortune fled to younger compan… Departed, as the glory of the day,

It’s a long, long way to the count… I wade and splash in the creek; And a long, long way to the Fernc… The Fair where I was last week: It’s a long, long way to the end o…

Summer, gowned in catnip-gray, Goes her weedy wildwood way, Where with rosehip-buttoned coat, Cardinal flower-plume afloat, With the squirrel-folk at play,

She stood among the longest ferns The valley held; and in her hand One blossom, like the light that b… Vermilion o’er a sunset land; And round her hair a twisted band

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 gentian and the bluebell so Can change my calendar, I know not how the year may go, Or what the seasons are: The months, in some mysterious wis…

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.