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,

Who knows the things they dream, a… Or feel, who lie beneath the groun… Perhaps the flowers, the leaves, a… That close them round. In spring the violets may spell

Dear heart and love! what happines… And watch the firelight’s varying… On thy young face; and through tho… As through glad windows-mark fair… In sumptuous chambers of thy soul’…

The tufted gold of the sassafras, And the gold of the spicewood-bush… Bewilder the ways of the forest pa… And brighten the underbrush: The white-starred drifts of the wi…

From an ode ‘In Commemoration of… Massachusetts Bay Colony.’ The morn that breaks its heart of… Above the purple hills; The eve, that spills

THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed

Across the world she sends me word… From gardens fair as Falerina’s, Now by a blossom, now a bird, To come to her, who long has lured With magic sweeter than Alcina’s.

Old days, old ways, old homes besi… Old gardens with old-fashioned flo… Poppy, petunia, and many a name Of many a flower of fragrant pedig… Old hills that glow with blue– and…

Ah me! I shall not waken soon From dreams of such divinity! A spirit singing 'neath the moon To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm

He waited till within her tower Her taper signalled him the hour. He was a prince both fair and brav… What hope that he would love her s… He of the Persian dynasty;

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,

The waters leap, The waters roar; And on the shore One sycamore Stands, towering hoar.

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…

Beyond the barley meads and hay, What was the light that beckoned t… That made her sweet lips smile and… ‘Oh, busk me in a gown of May, And knot red poppies in my hair.’

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…