The west builds high a sepulcher Of cloudy granite and of gold, Where twilight’s priestly hours in… The Day like some great king of o… A censer, rimmed with silver fire,

From out the hills where twilight… Above the shadowy pasture lands, With strained and strident cry, Beneath pale skies that sunset ban… The bull-bats fly.

THE season of the rose and peace… It could not last. There’s heartbreak in the hills an… Of sorrow in the rain-lashed plain… While Earth regards, aghast,

What wood-god, on this water’s mos… Lost in reflections of earth’s lov… Did I, just now, unconsciously di… I, who haphazard, wandering at a g… Came on this spot, wherein, with g…

In classic beauty, cold, immaculat… A voiceful sculpture, stern and st… Upon her brow deep-chiselled love… That sorrow o’er dead roses in her…

Little Girlie Good Enough Lives right there across the stree… Neater than a powder-puff, Yes she is, and just as sweet: Bows and ribbons on her hair,

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…

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

High in the place of outraged libe… He ruled the world, an emperor and… His iron armies swept the land and… And conquered nations trembled at… By him the love that fills man’s s…

Roses, brier on brier, Like a hedge of fire, Walled it from the world and rolle… Crimson ‘round it; manifold Blossoms, ’mid which once of old

THE wind that met her in the park… Came hurrying to my side— It ran to me, it leapt to me, And nowhere would abide. It whispered in my ear a word,

Deep in a valley, green with ancie… And wandered through of one small,… Whose bear-grassed banks bristled… Tick-trefoil and the thorny marigo… Bush-clover and the wahoo, hung wi…

When the hornet hangs in the holly… And the brown bee drones i’ the ro… And the west is a red-streaked fou… And summer is near its close– It’s oh, for the gate and the locu…

Seemingly over the hill-tops, Possibly under the hills, A tireless wing that never drops, And a song that never stills. Epics heard on the stars’ lips?

A tranquil bar Of rosy twilight under dusk’s firs… A glimmering sound Of whispering waters over grassy g… A sun-sweet smell