God made her body out of foam and… And for her hair the dawn and dark… Then called two planets from their… And in her face, divinely eloquent… Gave them a firmament.

Why speak of Rajah rubies, And roses of the South? I know a sweeter crimson A baby’s mouth. Why speak of Sultan sapphires

Under the boughs of spring She swung in the old rope-swing. Her cheeks, with their happy blood… Were pink as the apple-bud. Her eyes, with their deep delight,

Their only thought religion, What Christmas joys had they, The stern, staunch Pilgrim Father… Knew naught of holiday? A log-church in the clearing

Blood-Coloured oaks, that stand a… Gaunt slopes, on which the bleak l… And broom-sedge strips of smoky-pi… In which, beneath the ragged sky,… From West to East, from wood to w…

Deep in her broom-sedge, burs and… Her frost-slain asters and dead ma… Where gray the wilding clematis ba… The brake with puff-balls: where t… Her sombre steps: decked with the…

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…

I am a part of all you see In Nature; part of all you feel: I am the impact of the bee Upon the blossom; in the tree I am the sap,-that shall reveal

THE woods stretch wild to the mou… And the brush is deep where a man… They have brought the bloodhounds… To the roadside rock where they fo… They have brought the bloodhounds…

A tranquil bar Of rosy twilight under dusk’s firs… A glimmering sound Of whispering waters over grassy g… A sun-sweet smell

The day, all fierce with carmine,… An Indian face towards Earth and… The west, like some gaunt vase, in… Its ashes under smouldering skies, Athwart whose bowl one red cloud s…

The acorn-oak Sullens to sombre crimson all its… And where it hugely heaves A giant head dark as congested blo… The gum-tree towers, against the s…

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

There are three things of Earth That help us more Than those of heavenly birth That all implore Than Love or Faith or Hope,

On receiving a bottle of Sherry W… WHAT 'blushing Hippocrene’ is he… Of the 'warm South’ with magic of… Through which again I seem to vie… Of all Cervantes’ dreams, his hea…