Not they the great Who build authority around a Stat… And firm on calumny and party hate Base their ambition. Nor the grea… Who with disturbance make their wa…

These are the things I pray Heave… To blow the ashes of the years awa… Or keep aglow forever 'neath their… The fire that warms when Life’s o… First Faith, that gazed into our…

Their only thought religion, What Christmas joys had they, The stern, staunch Pilgrim Father… Knew naught of holiday? A log-church in the clearing

We were a crew of what you please, Men with the lust of gold gone mad… Dutch and Yankee and Portuguese, With a nigger or two from Trinida… The scum of the Caribbees:

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…

A lonely barn, lost in a field of… A fallen fence, where partly hangs… The skies are darkening and the ho… The Indian dusk comes, red in rai… Along a path, which from a woodlan…

The tufted gold of the sassafras, And the gold of the spicewood-bush… Bewilder the ways of the forest pa… And brighten the underbrush: The white-starred drifts of the wi…

I do not love you now, O narrow heart, that had no height… You, whom mine fed; to whom yours… Food when mine hungered, and of wh… I do not love you now.

There’s a story no one knows, But myself, about a rose And a fairy and a star Where the Toyland people are. Once when I had gone to bed,

If heart be tired and soul be sad As life goes on in homespun clad, Drab, colorless, with much of care… Not even a ribbon in her hair; Heart-broken for the near and new,

Hearts, that have cheered us ever,… With words that helped us on the r… The hard, long road of life to who… More than the heart can ever hope… Are they not touchstones, soul-tra…

Magician he, who, autumn nights, Down from the starry heavens whirl… A harlequin in spangled tights, Whose wand’s touch carpets earth w… Through him each pane presents a s…

WHAT shall her silence keep Under the sun? Here, where the willows weep And waters run; Here, where she lies asleep,

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.

WITH her fair face she made my h… Beneath whose stars and moon and s… I worshiped, praying, having striv… For wealth through which she might… And yet she had no soul: A woman