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,

Among the fields the camomile Seems blown mist in the lightning’… Cool, rainy odors drench the air; Night speaks above; the angry smil… Of storm within her stare.

Red-Winding from the sleepy town, One takes the lone, forgotten lane Straight through the hills. A bru… Bubbles in thorn-flowers, sweet wi… Where breezes bend the gleaming gr…

Morn’s mystic rose is reddening on… Dawn’s irised nautilus makes glad… There is a lyre of flame that thro… Far heaven and earth with hope’s w… With lilied field and grove,

Why speak of Giamschid rubies Whence rosy starlight drips? I know a richer crimson, The ruby of her lips. Why speak of pearls of Oman

Were I an artist, Lydia, I Would paint you as you merit, Not as my eyes, but dreams, descry… Not in the flesh, but spirit. The canvas I would paint you on

There’s a little girl I know And we call her So-and-So. She is neither good nor bad Good enough for me although! Never saw a girl that had

Once a charcoal wagon passed, And an old black charcoalman, ‘Blacker than a midnight blast,’ Mother said. And he began Crying, ‘Charcoal! charcoal!

Now ’tis the time when, tall, The long blue torches of the bellf… Among the trees; and, by the woode… In many a fragrant ball, Blooms of the button-bush fall.

There was once a little boy— So my father told me—who Never cared for any toy, But just sweet things, as boys do, Cakes and comfits, cream and ice,

An old, lost lane; where can it le… To stony pastures, where the weed Purples its plume, or sails its se… And from one knoll, the vetch make… Trailing its glimmering ribbon on,

Through leafy windows of the trees The full moon shows a wrinkled fac… And, trailing dim her draperies Of mist from place to place, The Twilight leads the breeze.

The Moonshiner He leans far out and watches: Dow… The road seems but a ribbon throug… The bluff, from which he gazes, wh… Some ox-team or some horseman come…

The vat-like cups of the fungus, f… With the rain that fell last night… Are casks of wine that the elves d… For revels the moon did light. The owlet there with her ‘Who-oh-…

She sleeps; he sings to her. The… And, tired out with too much happi… She fain would have him sing of ol… Quaint songs, that spoke of love i… Her restless soul was straight bes…