Above the town a monstrous wheel i… With glowing spokes of red, Low in the west its fiery axle bur… And, lost amid the spaces overhead… A vague white moth, the moon, is f…

At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.

I meant to do my work to—day— But a brown bird sang in the apple… And a butterfly flitted across the… And all the leaves were calling me… And the wind went sighing over the…

Lightnings may flicker round my he… And all the world seem doom, If you, like a wild rose, will wal… Strangely into the room. If only my sad heart may hear

(TO JOHN FRASER) There, in my mind’s-eye, pure it l… My lodger’s vote! ’Twas mine to-d… It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good,—

In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.

Shadows! the only shadows that I… Are happy shadows of the light of… The radiance immortal shining thro… Your sea-deep eyes up from the sou… Your shadow, like a rose’s, on the…

Our tears, our songs, our laurels—… To thee in thy Gethsemane of loss… Stretched in thine unimagined agon… On Hell’s last engine of the Iron… For such a world as this that thou…

Waiting in the woodland, watching… Thinking every leaf that stirs the… Thinking every whisper the rustle… How my heart goes up and up, and t… First it is a squirrel, then it is…

The solemn light behind the barns, The rising moon, the cricket’s cal… The August night, and you and I - What is the meaning of it all! Has it a meaning, after all?

An animalcule in my blood Rose up against me as I dreamed, He was so tiny as he stood, You had not heard him, though he s… He cried ‘There is no Man!’

Who will gather with me the fallen… This drift of forgotten forsaken l… Ah! who give ear To the sigh October heaves At summer’s passing by!

God gave us an hour for our tears, One hour out of all the years, For all the years were another’s g… Given in a cruel troth of old. And how did we spend his boon?

Crickets calling, Apples falling. Summer dying, Life is flying. So soon over–