Why have you come? to see me in my… A thing to spit on, to despise and… And then to ask me! You, by whom… And then cast by, like some vile r… What shelter could you give me, no…

A Tortured tree in a huddled holl… On whose gnarled boughs three leav… A strip of path that the hunters f… That leads to fields of the wind’s… And a rain-washed hill with the wi…

When blood-root blooms and trilliu… Unclasp their stars to sun and rai… My heart strikes hands with winds… And wanders in the woods again. O urging impulse, born of spring,

The grasshopper, that sang its sle… All summer long, The orchard lands and harvest fiel… Taking no heed of aught save its o… Without alloy,

The partridge-berry flecks with fl… That leads to ferny hollows where… Drones on the aster. Far away the… Points its deep sapphire with a gl… Here from this height where, clust…

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…

From 'Beltenebros at Miraflores’ O sunset, from the springs of star… Draw down thy cataracts of gold; And belt their streams with burnin… Of ruby on which flame is rolled:

The night has set her outposts the… Of wind and rain; And to and fro, with ragged hair, At intervals they search the pane. The fir-trees, creepers redly clim…

The moth and beetle wing about The garden ways of other days; Above the hills, a fiery shout Of gold, the day dies slowly out, Like some wild blast a huntsman bl…

This is the path he used to take, That ended at a rose-porched door: He takes it now for oldtime’s sake… And love of yore. The blue mertensia, by the stone,

THERE is a house beside a way, Where dwells a ghost of Yesterday… The old face of a beauty, faded, Looks from its garden: and the sha… Long walks of locust-trees, that s…

THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed

First of the insect choir, in the… We hear his faint voice fluttering… Beneath some blossom’s rosy coveri… Or frond of fern upon a wildwood p… When in the marsh, in clamorous or…

There’s a boy who lives next door; And this boy is just as bad As a boy can be; and poor! He’s so poor it makes me sad When I see him. Out at knee;

Morn’s mystic rose is reddening on… Dawn’s irised nautilus makes glad… There is a lyre of flame that thro… Far heaven and earth with hope’s w… With lilied field and grove,