They who maintained their rights, Through storm and stress, And walked in all the ways That God made known, Led by no wandering lights,

Here where the coves indent the sh… And fill with ebb and flowing of t… Whereon some barge rocks or some d… By which old orchards bloom, or, f… Pelt every lane with fruit; where…

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…

In dim samite was she bedight, And on her hair a hoop of gold, Like fox-fire in the tawn moonligh… Was glimmering cold. With soft gray eyes she gloomed an…

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

Do you know the way that goes Over fields of rue and rose, Warm of scent and hot of hue, Roofed with heaven’s bluest blue, To the Vale of Dreams Come True?

The hot sunflowers by the glaring… Lift shields of sultry brass; the… Pink-thorned, advance with bristli… Against the furious sunlight. Fie… Are sick with summer: now, with br…

I Saw the daughters of the Dawn c… The winds of Morn danced with the… I saw their ribboned roses blow, t… As over eyes of sapphire tossed th… I saw the summer of their feet imp…

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…

Roaring winds that rocked the crow… High in his eyrie, All night long, and to and fro Swung the cedar and drove the snow Out of the North, have ceased to…

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

The Voice of a Man WHAT of the Night, O Watcher? The Voice of a Woman Yea, what of it? The Watcher

Those unrequited in their love who… Have never drained life’s chief il…

The rain made ruin of the rose and… The lily into tatters: now the Mo… Looks from the hopeless East with… As from her attic looks a dull-eye… The coreopsis drips; the sunflower…

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