I can’t get up with the chickens; I can’t get up at dark: And what do I care for the early… And what do I care for the lark? I can’t do this or that thing;

Through leafy windows of the trees The full moon shows a wrinkled fac… And, trailing dim her draperies Of mist from place to place, The Twilight leads the breeze.

White as a lily moulded of Earth’… That eve the moon bloomed in a hya… Soft in the gleaming glens the win… Faint as a phantom clothed in unse… Bright as a naiad’s leap, from shi…

The frogs still cry, ‘Knee-deep!… Among its starlit pools, When dark the woodland lies asleep… And dusk its water cools: The fireflies round its bank of fe…

Can one resolve and hunt it from o… This love, this god and fiend, tha… Of many a life, in ways no tongue… No mind divine, nor any word impar… Would not one think the slights th…

With her 't is well now. She died… With all her hope and faith unmarr… Nor lived to see the pearls, Love… Without regard, Cast, lost among

Sunflowers wither and lilies die, Poppies are pods of seeds; The first red leaves on the pathwa… Like blood of a heart that bleeds. Weary alway will it be to-day,

I passed a cottage ‘twixt the town… And marked its garden, blossoming… And breathing many a scent. Awhil… Near pink and marigold. It seemed a place of prayer; of lo…

From 'One Day and Another’ What little things are those That hold our happiness! A smile, a glance, a rose Dropped from her hair or dress;

The lake she haunts gleams dreamil… ‘Twixt sleepy boughs of melody, Set ’mid the hills beside the sea, In tangled bush and brier; Where the ghostly sunsets write

The gray dawn finds me thinking st… Of thee who hadst my thoughts all… Of thee, who art my lute’s sweet s… And of my soul the only light; My star of song to whom I turn

Devil’s Race-Horse seems to me Strangest thing I ever saw: Up in our old maple-tree They’re at home; stand rearingly, Lean of neck and long of claw.

In heavens of riveted blue, that s… With glaucous flame, deep in the w… Stands Midas-like; or, wading on… Touches with splendor all the twil… Each cloud that, like a stepping-s…

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,

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…