Oh, I am going home again, Back to the old house in the lane, And mother! who still sits and sew… With cheeks, each one, a winter ro… A-watching for her boy, you know,

Those hewers of the clouds, the W… At the four compass-points,-are ou… I hear their sandals trample on th… I hear their voices trumpet throug… Builders of storm, God’s workmen,…

There’s a scent of pungent wood sm… And a jack-o’-lantern glare, a wil… ’Tis the brush that burns and smou… The old New England ways, When Autumn plants her gipsy tent…

Above her, pearl and rose the heav… Around her, flowers flattered eart… Or down the path in insolence held… Like cavaliers who ride the king’s… Scarlet and buff, within a garden…

THERE is a glory in the apple bo… Of silver moonlight; like a torch… Burning upon an altar of sweet vow… Dropped from the hand of some wan… And there is life among the apple…

Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.

Masks Death rides black-masked to-night;… Madness beside him brandishes a to… The peaceful farmhouse with its vi… Lies in their way. Death lifts a…

Since Fancy taught me in her scho… I know her tricks-These are not m… Nor fireflies; but masking Elflan… Whose link-boys torch them to Tit…

How often hope’s fair flower bloom… The soul was fertilized with black…

Not into these dark cities, These sordid marts and streets, That the sun in his rising pities, And the moon with sorrow greets, Does she, with her dreams and flow…

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,—

A lonely barn, lost in a field of… A fallen fence, where partly hangs… The skies are darkening and the ho… The Indian dusk comes, red in rai… Along a path, which from a woodlan…

Be glad, just for to-day! O heart, be glad! Cast all your cares away! Doff all that 's sad! Put of your garments gray

All night I lay upon the rocks: And now the dawn comes up this way… One great star trembling in her lo… Of rosy ray. I can not tell the things I’ve se…

With fall on fall, from wood to wo… The brook pours mossy music down Or is it, in the solitude, The murmur of a Faery town? A town of Elfland filled with bel…