The lake she haunts gleams dreamil… ‘Twixt sleepy boughs of melody, Set ’mid the hills beside the sea, In tangled bush and brier; Where the ghostly sunsets write

The memory of what we’ve lost Is with us more than what we’ve wo… Perhaps because we count the cost By what we could, yet have not don… ‘Twixt act and purpose fate hath d…

There are three things of Earth That help us more Than those of heavenly birth That all implore Than Love or Faith or Hope,

‘Teach me the wisdom of thy beauty… That, being thus wise, I may aspi… What beauty is, whence, why, and i… Immortal, yet how mortal utterly: For, shrinking loveliness, thy bro…

They who take courage from their o… Are victors too, no matter how muc…

Geraldine, Geraldine, Do you remember where The willows used to screen The water flowing fair? The mill-stream’s banks of green

She walks with the wind on the win… When the rocks are loud and the wa… And all night long she calls throu… ‘O my children, come home!’ Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered…

There was moonlight in the garden… There was scent of pink and peony… When adown the pathway whitely, wh… She came stepping, oh, so lightly, To the old gate made of pickets.

Last night it was Hallowe’en. Darkest night I’ve ever seen. And the boy next door, I thought, Would be glad to know of this Jack-o’-lantern father brought

Red-Faced as old carousal, and wi… A hard, hot blue; her hair a frows… Bold, dowdy-bosomed, from her wido… She leans, her mouth all insult an… Or slattern-slippered and in slutt…

The scent of dittany was hot. Its smell intensified the heat: Into his brain it seemed to beat With memories of a day forgot, When she walked with him through t…

Its rotting fence one scarcely see… Through sumac and wild blackberrie… Thick elder and the bramble-rose, Big ox-eyed daisies where the bees Hang droning in repose.

I found myself among the trees What time the reapers ceased to re… And in the sunflower-blooms the be… Huddled brown heads and went to sl… Rocked by the balsam-breathing bre…

From 'Beltenebros at Miraflores’ O sunset, from the springs of star… Draw down thy cataracts of gold; And belt their streams with burnin… Of ruby on which flame is rolled:

A lily in a twilight place? A moonflow’r in the lonely night?— Strange beauty of a woman’s face Of wildflow’r-white! The rain that hangs a star’s green…