Where are they, that song and tale Tell of? lands our childhood knew? Sea-locked Faerylands that trail Morning summits, dim with dew, Crimson o’er a crimson sail.

Here is a tale for all who wish to… There was a thief who, in his cut-… Was hailed as chief; he had a way… Persuasion, masked, behind a weapo… That made it cockrow with each goo…

When on the mountain tops ray-crow… Turns his swift arrows, dart on gl… Let but a rock glint green, the wi… Glad-grazing shyly on each sparse-… Rolled into plunging torrents spri…

He told a story to her, A story old yet new And was it of the Faëry Folk That dance along the dew? The night was hung with silence

Between the darkness and the day As, lost in doubt, I went my way, I met a shape, as faint as fair, With star-like blossoms in its hai… Its body, which the moon shone thr…

What is the gold of mortal-kind To that men find Deep in the poet’s mind! That magic purse Of Dreams from which

She came through shade and shine, By scarlet trumpetvine And fragrant buttonbush, That heaped the wayside hush And oh!

Let down the bars; drive in the co… The west is barred with burning ro… Unhitch the horses from the plough… And from the cart the ox that lows… And light the lamp within the hous…

January Shaggy with skins of frost-furred… Harsh, hoary hair framing a bitter… He bends above the dead Year’s fi… Nursing the last few embers of its…

A Sea of onyx are the skies, Cloud-islanded with fire; Such nacre-colored flame as dyes A sea-shell’s rosy spire; And at its edge one star sinks slo…

Once I found an ant-lion’s hole And an ant-lion in it: nippers Like a pair of rusty clippers. And I saw a red ant roll In its pit, and, quick as Ned,

And these are Christians! God! th… How long, O Lord! how long, O Lo… Wilt Thou endure this crime? and… Look down on Earth nor sweep away… Are these Thy teachings? Where is…

The gladness of our Southern spri… Of summer; and the dreaminess of f… Are parts of her sweet nature. Su… Was Ruth’s, methinks, divinely sp…

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

See how the rose leaves fall The rose leaves fall and fade: And by the wall, in dusk funereal, How leaf on leaf is laid, Withered and soiled and frayed.