I cannot tell what I would tell t… What I would say, what thou shoul… Words of the soul that should comp… Words of the heart to draw thee ne… For when thou smilest, thou, who f…

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…

A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…

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

Whether it be that we in letters t… The pure exactness of a wood bird’… And name it song; or with the brus… The high perfection of a wildflowe… Or mold in difficult marble all th…

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.

Under the boughs of spring She swung in the old rope-swing. Her cheeks, with their happy blood… Were pink as the apple-bud. Her eyes, with their deep delight,

Beyond lost seas of summer she Dwelt on an island of the sea, Last scion of that dynasty, Queen of a race forgotten long.- With eyes of light and lips of son…

Great clouds of sullen seal and go… Bar bleak the tawny west, From which all day the-thunder rol… And storm streamed, crest on crest… Now silvery in its deeps of bronze

I found myself among the trees What time the reapers ceased to re… And in the sunflower-blooms the be… Huddled brown heads and went to sl… Rocked by the balsam-breathing bre…

Bald, with old eyes a blood-shot b… Into the Boar’s-Head Inn: the ho… His fulvous face, and all his raim… Of all the stews and all the East… Upon the battered board again he d…

Summer met Sleep at sunset, Dreaming within the south, Drugged with his soul’s deep slumb… Red with her heart’s hot drouth, These are the drowsy kisses

There is a poetry that speaks Through common things: the grassho… That in the hot weeds creaks and c… Says all of summer to my ear: And in the cricket’s cry I hear

A Sense of something that is sad… Of something that is felt as death… As shadows, phantoms, in a haunted… Around me seems to melt. It rises, so it seems, from the de…

COME, let’s climb into our attic… In our house that’s old and gray! Life, you’re old and I’m rheumati… And—it’s close of day. Lay aside your rags and tatters,