The bubbled blue of morning-glory… Balloon-blown foam of moonflowers,… Of clematis, through which Septem… Song-hearted, rich in realized des… Are flanked by hotter hues: by taw…

THE sunset was a sleepy gold, And stars were in the skies When down a weedy lane he strolled In vague and thoughtless wise. And then he saw it, near a wood,

Misty are the far-off hills And misty are the near; Purple hazes dimly lie Veiling hill and field and sky, Marshes where the hylas cry,

When you and I in the hills went… You and I in the bright May weath… The birds, that sang on the boughs… There in the green of the woods, k… All that my heart was saying low,

Wherein is it so beautiful? In all things dim and all things c… In silence, that is built of leave… And wind and spray of waterfall; And, golden as the half-ripe sheav…

Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.

Sunlight and shrill cicada and the… Slow, sleepy kissing of the sea an… And rumor of the wind. The mornin… A sullen face of fog that lifted s… Letting her eyes gleam through of…

Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.

Between the darkness and the day As, lost in doubt, I went my way, I met a shape, as faint as fair, With star-like blossoms in its hai… Its body, which the moon shone thr…

Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose… A red, red rose, that half uncurls Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: Or like a shell, that, opening, sh… Within its rosy curve white pearls…

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…

Around, the stillness deepened; th… Went wild with wind; and every bri… Was swept with dust; and then, tem… Hillward the tempest heaved a mons… That on the thunder leaned as on a…

Here is a tale for ladies with rom… There was an owl; composer and mus… Who looked as wise as if he had a… And at all art cast supercilious g… People proclaimed him great becaus…

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

To me all beauty that I see Is melody made visible: An earth-translated state, may be, Of music heard in Heaven or Hell. Out of some love-impassioned strai…