She sits among the iris stalks Of babbling brooks; and leans for… Among the river’s lily flowers, Or on their whiteness walks: Above dark forest pools, gray rock…

There’s a house across the street That nobody goes into; Say it’s haunted, yes, they do; Ghosts livethere, they say, or mee… Saw one in a winding-sheet

Bald, with old eyes a blood-shot b… Into the Boar’s-Head Inn: the ho… His fulvous face, and all his raim… Of all the stews and all the East… Upon the battered board again he d…

There is a place I search for sti… Sequestered as the world of dreams… A bushy hollow, and a hill That whispers with descending stre… Cool, careless waters, wandering d…

Christmas is just one week off, And Old Santa’s in the house; In the attic heard a cough Th’ other day when not a mouse Nor a rat, I know, was there.

I belt the morn with ribboned mist… With baldricked blue I gird the n… And dusk with purple, crimson-kiss… White-buckled with the hunter’s mo… These follow me, the season says:

Devil’s Race-Horse seems to me Strangest thing I ever saw: Up in our old maple-tree They’re at home; stand rearingly, Lean of neck and long of claw.

These are the things which I woul… When I am old, Never to feel in soul doubt’s spir… The heart grow cold With self; but in me that which wa…

Roaring winds that rocked the crow… High in his eyrie, All night long, and to and fro Swung the cedar and drove the snow Out of the North, have ceased to…

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

Here is a tale for ladies with rom… There was an owl; composer and mus… Who looked as wise as if he had a… And at all art cast supercilious g… People proclaimed him great becaus…

WHEN pearl and gold, o’er deeps… The moon curves, silvering the dus… As in a garden, dreaming, A lily slips its dewy husk A firefly in its gleaming,—

The dim verbena drugs the dusk With lemon-heavy odours where The heliotropes breathe drowsy mus… Into the jasmine-dreamy air; The moss-rose bursts its dewy husk

There was moonlight in the garden… There was scent of pink and peony… When adown the pathway whitely, wh… She came stepping, oh, so lightly, To the old gate made of pickets.

One night I lingered in the wood And saw a spirit-form that stood Among the wildflowers. Like the d… It twinkled; partly wind and scent… Then down a moonbeam there it blew…