Come, walk with me and Memory; And let us see what we shall see: A wild green lane of stones and we… That to a wilder woodland leads. An old board gate, the lichens cru…

The dogs made way for him and snar… And little children to their paren… Big-eyed with fear, when, gruff of… Bent-backed he passed who had the… In old drab coat and trousers, sho…

Against the pane the darkness, wet… Pressed a wild face and raised a r… Of cloud, clothed on with thunder… And terrible with elemental gold. Above the fisher’s hut, beyond the…

Let us go far from here! Here there is sadness in the early… Here sorrow waits where joy went l… The sicklied face of heaven hangs… Above the woodland and the meadowl…

Frail, shrunken face, so pinched a… That life has carved with care and… So weary waiting, night and morn, For that which never came about! Pale lamp, so utterly forlorn,

Little leaves, that lean your ears From each branch and bough of spri… What is that your rapture hears? Song of bird or flight of wing, All so eager, little ears?

Within the world of every man’s de… Two things have power to lift the… The first is Work, who dons a mea… The other, Love, whose raiment is… Their child is Hope, and we the h…

SHUT it out of the heart—this gr… O Love, with the years grown old… And let in joy that life is brief, And give God thanks for the end o… The bond of the flesh is transitor…

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

Often, when I wake at night, I can hear the strangest sounds, Stealthy noises, left and right, As of some one going his rounds: On the stairs there comes a crack

Who could describe you, child of m… And silence, born among these soli… Within whose look there is a secre… Old as these wanderingwoods, And knowledge, cousin to the morni…

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…

Baroque, but beautiful, between th… The valves of nacre of a mussel-sh… Behold, a pearl! shaped like the b… Of some strange blossom that long… Of summer coax to open: all the mo…

Her heart is still and leaps no mo… With holy passion when the breeze, Her whilom playmate, as before, Comes with the language of the bee… Sad songs her mountain cedars sing…

O Days that hold us; and years th… And dreams and mem’ries no time de… Where lie the islands, the morning… And where the highlands we knew wh… Oh, tell us, whether the happy hea…