Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry,

As Jesus and his followers Upon a Sabbath morn Were walking by a wheat field They plucked the ears of corn. They plucked it, they rubbed it,

The butterfly, the cabbage white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the art of flying straight, Yet has —who knows so well as I?…

Under your Milky Way And slow—revolving Bear Frogs from the alder thicket pray In terror of your judgement day, Loud with repentance there.

Here in turn succeed and rule Carter, smith, and village fool, Then again the place is known As tavern, shop, and Sunday—schoo… Now somehow it’s come to me

She, then, like snow in a dark nig… Fell secretly. And the world wake… With dazzling of the drowsy eye, So that some muttered 'Too much l… And drew the curtains close.

Now I begin to know at last, These nights when I sit down to r… The form and measure of that vast God we call Poetry, he who stoops And leaps me through his paper hoo…

“Is that the Three—and—Twentieth,… Marching below, and we still gulpi… From the sad magic of his fragrant… The red—faced old centurion starte… Cursed, battered on the table. “N…

“What do you think The bravest drink Under the sky?” “Strong beer,” said I. “There’s a place for everything,

Sleepy Betsy from her pillow Sees the post and ball Of her sister’s wooden bedstead Shadowed on the wall. Now this grave young warrior stadn…

Unicorn with bursting heart Breath of love has drawn: On his desolate crags apart, At rumor of dawn, Has blared aloud his pride