There is a voice that calls to me;… That calls within my heart of hear… When Summer doffs her crown, my d… The spirit of September walks thr… It calls my heart beyond the mart,…

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

‘T was Fiddledeedee who put to se… With a rollicking buccaneer Bumbl… An acorn-cup was their hollow boat A rakish craft was their acorn-boa… And their sail a butterfly’s wing;

Why should I pine? when there in… Are eyes to woo, and not in vain; Dark eyes, and dreamily divine: And lips, as red as sunlit wine; Sweet lips, that never know disdai…

Inspiration. All who have toiled for Art, who’… Sat equal priests at her high Pen… Only the chrism and sacrament of f… Anointing all, inspired not all th…

Over the roar of cities, Over the hush of the hills, Mounts ever a song that never stop… A voice that never stills. Epic-loud as the sea is,

Out, out in the open fields, Where the great, green book of Go… The book that its wisdom yields To each soul that is not a clod, Lies wide for the world to read,

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,

Woman’s a star, a rose; Man but a moth, a bee: High now as heaven she glows, Low now as earth and sea: Star of the world and rose,

Red-Winding from the sleepy town, One takes the lone, forgotten lane Straight through the hills. A bru… Bubbles in thorn-flowers, sweet wi… Where breezes bend the gleaming gr…

When on the leaves the rain persis… And every gust brings showers down… When all the woodland smokes with… I take the old road out of town Into the hills through which it tw…

There is a place I search for sti… Sequestered as the world of dreams… A bushy hollow, and a hill That whispers with descending stre… Cool, careless waters, wandering d…

WHAT shall her silence keep Under the sun? Here, where the willows weep And waters run; Here, where she lies asleep,

The hills are full of prophecies And ancient voices of the dead; Of hidden shapes that no man sees, Pale, visionary presences, That speak the things no tongue ha…

Darkly October; Where the wild fo… Utters a harsh and melancholy cry; And slowly closing, far a sunset d… Day wildly glares upon.the world o… Where Twilight, with one star to…