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,

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

Summer met Sleep at sunset, Dreaming within the south, Drugged with his soul’s deep slumb… Red with her heart’s hot drouth, These are the drowsy kisses

Thou pulse of hotness, who, with r… Makest meridian music, long and lo… Accentuating summer!-Dost thy bes… To make the sunbeams fiercer, and… With lonesomeness the long, close…

There is no rhyme that is half so… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that’s half so f… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…

How shall it be with them that day When God demands of Earth His pa… With them who make a god of clay And gold and put all truth away. Shall not they see the lightning-r…

Don’t know what to do to-day. Got so many things to do I can’t do them. Want to play, But my toys are all too new I don’t like to play with them:

Low clouds, the lightning veins an… Torn from the forest of the storm, Sweep westward like enormous leave… O’er field and farm. And in the west, on burning skies,

Joy’s is the magic sweet, That makes Youth’s pulses beat, Puts music in young feet, The old heart hears, the sad heart… And Joy’s the pleasant pain,

About the time when bluebells swin… Their elfin belfries for the bee And in the fragrant House of Spri… Wild Music moves; and Fantasy Sits weaving webs of witchery:

First I asked the honeybee, Busy in the balmy bowers; Saying, ‘Sweetheart, tell it me: Have you seen her, honeybee? She is cousin to the flowers

Low, swallow-swept and gray, Between the orchard and the spring… All its wide windows overflowing h… And crannied doors a-swing, The old barn stands to-day.

So Love is dead, the Love we knew… And in the sorrow of our hearts’ h… A lute lies broken and a flower fa… Love’s house stands empty and his… Lone in dim places, where sweet vo…

When by the wall the tiger-flower… A head of sultry slumber and aroma… And by the path, whereon the blown… Its obsolete beauty, the long lili… White place of perfume, like a bea…

O Dark-Eyed goddess of the marble… Whose look is silence and whose to… Who walkest lonely through the wor… Who sittest lonely with Life’s bl… Who in the hollow hours of night’s…