My Treasures These nuts, that I keep in the ba… Where all my tin soldiers are lyin… Were gathered in Autumn by nursie… In a wood with a well by the side…

I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited… Or feigned to visit, now, my day b… Do slumber wholly; nor shall know… The weariness of changes; nor perc… Immeasurable sands of centuries

In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over

I am a kind of farthing dip, Unfriendly to the nose and eyes; A blue-behinded ape, I skip Upon the trees of Paradise. At mankind’s feast, I take my pla…

I will make you brooches and toys… Of bird—song at morning and star—s… I will make a palace fit for you a… Of green days in forests and blue… I will make my kitchen, and you sh…

Children, you are very little, And your bones are very brittle; If you would grow great and statel… You must try to walk sedately. You must still be bright and quiet…

A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grac… I send (unhappy I that sing

MY heart, when first the blackbir… My heart drinks in the song: Cool pleasure fills my bosom throu… And spreads each nerve along. My bosom eddies quietly,

On the great streams the ships may… About men’s business to and fro. But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sle… On crystal waters ankle-deep: I, whose diminutive design,

Some day soon this rhyming volume,… Little Louis Sanchez, will be giv… Then you shall discover, that your… By the English printers, long bef… In the great and busy city where t…

LONG TIME I LAY IN LIT… LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, the many—masted, sees The blue Mediterranean.

THOUGH deep indifference should… The sluggish life beneath my brows… And all the external things I see Grow snow—showers in the street to… Yet inmost in my stormy sense

THE cock’s clear voice into the c… Where westward far I roam, Mounts with a thrill of hope, Falls with a sigh of home. A rural sentry, he from farm and f…

Friend, in my mountain-side demesn… My plain-beholding, rosy, green And linnet-haunted garden-ground, Let still the esculents abound. Let first the onion flourish there…

In mony a foreign pairt I’ve been… An’ mony an unco ferlie seen, Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I Last walkit upon Cocklerye. Wi’ gleg, observant een, I pass’t