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…

I Heard his step upon the moss; I glimpsed his shadow in the strea… And thrice I saw the brambles tos… Wherein he vanished like a dream. A great beech aimed a giant stroke

Over the roar of cities, Over the hush of the hills, Mounts ever a song that never stop… A voice that never stills. Epic-loud as the sea is,

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…

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…

The golden discs of the rattlesnak… That spangle the woods and dance– No gleam of gold that the twilight… Is strong as their necromance: For, under the oaks where the wood…

The night is sad with silver and t… And the woodland silence listens t… Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom… With her limbs of samite whiteness… Whom the boyish South Wind seeks…

My soul goes out to her who says, ‘Come, follow me and cast off care… Then tosses back her sun-bright ha… And like a flower before me sways Between the green leaves and my ga…

Above lone woodland ways that led To dells the stealthy twilights tr… The west was hot geranium red; And still, and still, Along old lanes the locusts sow

When dusk falls cool as a rained-o… And a tawny tower the twilight sho… With the crescent moon, the silver… A turret window that grows a-light… There is a path that my Fancy kno…

The Voice of a Man WHAT of the Night, O Watcher? The Voice of a Woman Yea, what of it? The Watcher

White roses, like a mist Upon a terraced height, And 'mid the roses, opal, moonbeam… A fountain falling white. And as the full moon flows,

I. SPRING ON THE HILLS Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, The Spring, as wild wings follow? Where wild-plum trees make wan the… Crabapple trees the hollow,

Where the violet shadows brood Under cottonwoods and beeches, Through whose leaves the restless… Of the river glance, I’ve stood, While the red-bird and the thrush

Low, swallow-swept and gray, Between the orchard and the spring… All its wide windows overflowing h… And crannied doors a-swing, The old barn stands to-day.