One tree, storm-twisted, like an e… The sea-wind in its hair, beside a… Waves frantic arms, as if in wild-… At all the world. Gigantic, grey… Great boulders shoulder through th…

A Far bell tinkles in the hollow, And heart and soul are fain to fol… Gone is the rose and gone the swal… Autumn is here. The wild geese draw at dusk their…

What would it mean for you and me If dawn should come no more! Think of its gold along the sea, Its rose above the shore! That rose of awful mystery,

There are moments when, as mission… God reveals to us strange visions; When, within their separate statio… We may see the Centuries, Like revolving constellations

Love one day, in childish anger, Tired of his divinity, Sick of rapture, sick of languor, Threw his arrows in the sea. Since then Ocean, like a woman,

The shadows sit and stand about it… Like uninvited guests and poor; And all the long, hot summer day The grating locust dins its rounde… In one old sycamore.

Within the world of every man’s de… Three things have power to lift hi… Through dreams, religion, and ecst… The star-like shapes of Beauty, T… I never hoped that, this side far-…

Here’s the tale my father told, Walking in the park one night, When the stars shone big and brigh… And the autumn wind blew cold: Once a giant lived of old

The waterfall, deep in the wood, Talked drowsily with solitude, A soft, insistent sound of foam, That filled with sleep the forest’… Where, like some dream of dusk, sh…

I had the strangest dream last nig… I dreamed the poppies, red and whi… That over-run the flower-bed, Changed to wee women, white and re… Who, jeweled with the twinkling we…

This was my dream: It seemed the afternoon Of some deep tropic day; and yet t… Stood round and bright with golden… High in a heaven bluer than the se…

She walks with the wind on the win… When the rocks are loud and the wa… And all night long she calls throu… ‘O my children, come home!’ Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered…

Rain and wind and candlelight And let us pray a prayer to-night: For every soul, since life is brie… Little of trouble and less of grie… And set a light at the windowpane,

The thorn-tree waved a bough of M… And all its branches bent To indicate the wildwood way The Wind and Sunbeam went. A wildrose here, a wildrose there

There’s a bug at night that goes Drowsily down the garden ways; Lumberingly above the rose, And above the jasmine sprays; Bumping, bungling, buzzing by,