The cactus and the aloe bloom Beneath the window of your room; Your window where, at evenfall, Beneath the twilight’s first pale… You linger, tall and spiritual,

There is a hall in every house, Behind whose wainscot gnaws the mo… Along whose sides are empty rooms, Peopled with dreams and ancient do… When down this hall you take your…

Out in Oldham County once Met a boy who showed me how He could milk an old red cow. Yes; he was n’t any dunce. Put me on an old-gray mare;

She took her babe, the child of sh… And wrapped it warmly in her shawl… From house to house for work. Pro… A look of wonder on her; raised a… Of Christian outrage. None would…

You have shut me out from your tea… Over the man laid low and hoary. Listen to me now: I am no thief! You have shut me out from your tea… Listen to me, I will tell my stor…

When April comes, and pelts with… And apple-blooms each orchard spac… And takes the dog-wood-whitened wo… With rain and sunshine of her mood… Like your fair face, like your fai…

Thou, oh, thou! Thou of the chorded shell and gold… Of the dark eyes and pale pacific… Music, who by the plangent waves, Or in the echoing night of labyrin…

We tightened stirrup; buckled rein… Looked to our saddle-girths again; Shook hands all round; then mounte… The gate swung wide: we said, ‘Go… No time for talk had Bell and I.

With rod and line I took my way That led me through the gossip tre… Where all the forest was asway With hurry of the running breeze. I took my hat off to a flower

Often, when I wake at night, I can hear the strangest sounds, Stealthy noises, left and right, As of some one going his rounds: On the stairs there comes a crack

PROEM THE Nights of song and story, With breath of frost and rain, Whose locks are wild and hoary, Whose fingers tap the pane

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,

Lay but a finger on That pallid petal sweet, It trembles gray and wan Beneath the passing feet. But soft! blown rose, we know

From the hills and far away All the long, warm summer day Comes the wind and seems to say: ‘Come, oh, come! and let us go Where the meadows bend and blow,

IMPERIAL Madness, will of hand… Builds vast an altar here, and rea… Before the world, on godly land, A Moloch form of blood and tears. And far as eye can see, behold,