When down the west the new moon sl… A curved canoe that dipped and tip… When from the rose the dewdropp dr… As if it shed its heart’s blood sl… As softly silent as a star

FEBRILE perfumes as of faded ro… In the old house speak of love to-… Love long past; and where the soft… Down the west gleams, golden-red,… Pointing where departed splendor p…

She stood waist-deep among the bri… Above in twisted lengths were roll… The sunset’s tangled whorls of gol… Blown from the west’s cloud-pillar… And in the hush no sound did mar,

Slow sinks the sun, a great carbun… Red in the cavern of a sombre clou… And in her garden, where the dense… Among her dying asters stands the… Like some lone woman in a ruined h…

Non numero horas nisi serenas When Fall drowns morns in mist, i… In soul I am a part of it; A portion of its humid beams, A form of fog, I seem to flit

The locust builds its are of sound And tops it with a spire; The roadside leaves pant to the gr… With dust from hoof and tire. The insects, day and night, make d…

Each form of beauty’s but the new… Of thoughts more beautiful than fo… Sceptics, who search with unanoint… Never the Earth’s wild fairy-danc…

Beautiful-bosomed, O Night, in th… Move with majesty onward! soaring,… As a singer may soar the notes of… The stars and the moon Through the clerestories high of t…

The source of laughter lies so nea… And pain to rapture, that one foun… From forth the two Love’s; in who… The image of the Heaven each man…

Within the soul are throned two po… One, Love; one, Hate. Begot of t… And veiled between, a presence tow… The shadowy keeper of the keys. With wild command or calm persuasi…

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…

O roads, O paths, O ways that lea… Through woods where all the oak-tr… With autumn! and the frosty reds Of fallen leaves make whispering b… For winds to toss and turn upon,

Here is a tale for children and th… There was a fool, a man who’d had… But missed them, somehow; lost the… Tag-ends of things with which he’d… Of his cracked head, as panes are…

Yes, I love the homestead. There In the spring the lilacs blew Plenteous perfume everywhere; There in summer gladioles grew Parallels of scarlet glare.

A grey, bald hillside, bristling h… With leprous-looking grass, that,… Slopes to a valley where a wild st… And every bush seems tortured to d… And shows its teeth of thorns as i…