Far as the eye can see the land is… And desolation sits among the ston… Looking on ruin who, from rocks li… Stares with a dead face at the dyi… Mounds, where the barberry and bay…

A Tortured tree in a huddled holl… On whose gnarled boughs three leav… A strip of path that the hunters f… That leads to fields of the wind’s… And a rain-washed hill with the wi…

All hushed of glee, The last chill bee Clings wearily To the dying aster. The leaves dropp faster:

The little tents the wildflowers r… Are tabernacles where Love prays And Beauty preaches all the days. I walk the woodland through and th… And everywhere I see their blue

Along the road I smelt the rose, The wild-rose in its veil of rain; And how it was, God only knows, But with its scent I saw again A girl’s face at a window-pane,

There’s a scent of pungent wood sm… And a jack-o’-lantern glare, a wil… ’Tis the brush that burns and smou… The old New England ways, When Autumn plants her gipsy tent…

The slender snail clings to the le… Gray on its silvered underside; And slowly, slowlier than the snai… Bright steps, whose ripening touch… Her warm hands berry-dyed,

To me not only does her soul sugge… Palms and the peace of tropic shor… But, oceaned far beyond the golden… The Fortunate Islands of true Wo…

Ever since man was man a Fiend ha… Outside his House of Good, War, with his terrible toys, that… To follow murderous arts. His spurs, death-won, are but of l…

I Heard his step upon the moss; I glimpsed his shadow in the strea… And thrice I saw the brambles tos… Wherein he vanished like a dream. A great beech aimed a giant stroke

Who hath beheld the goddess face t… Blind with her beauty, all his day… Climbing lone mountains towards he… Weighed with song’s sweet, inexora…

From out the hills where twilight… Above the shadowy pasture lands, With strained and strident cry, Beneath pale skies that sunset ban… The bull-bats fly.

In some quaint Nurnberg maler-atelier Uprummaged. When and where was ne… Nor yet how he obtained it. When,… ’Twas painted-who shall say? itsel…

Far down the lane A window pane Gleams 'mid the trees through nigh… The weeds are dense Through which a fence

Let us mix a cup of Joy That the wretched may employ, Whom the Fates have made their to… Who have given brain and heart To the thankless world of Art,