IN Schnee der Alpen– so it runs To those divine accords– and here We dwell in Alpine snows and suns… A motley crew, for half the year: A motley crew, we dwell to taste—

O DULL cold northern sky, O brawling sabbath bells, O feebly twittering Autumn bird t… The year is like to die! O still, spoiled trees, O city wa…

SWALLOWS travel to and fro, And the great winds come and go, And the steady breezes blow, Bearing perfume, bearing love. Breezes hasten, swallows fly,

EARLY in the morning I hear on… You (at least, I guess it’s you)… Mostly little minds should take an… While the birds are singing in the…

IN the highlands, in the country… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…

AS in their flight the birds of s… Halt here and there in sweet and s… But halt not overlong; The time one rural song to sing They pause; then following bounteo…

The red room with the giant bed Where none but elders laid their h… The little room where you and I Did for awhile together lie And, simple, suitor, I your hand

As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees… So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away,

Tall as a guardsman, pale as the e… Who strides in strange apparel on… Rails for his breakfast? routs his… (Like boys escaped from school) wi… Kind and unkind, his Maker’s fina…

Son of my woman’s body, you go, to… To taste the colour of love and th… From out of the dainty the rude, t… Eternally through the ages from th… The ten fingers and toes, and the…

How do you like to go up in a swin… Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest… Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall,

Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don’t you wish that you were m… You have seen the scarlet trees

Child — O mother, lay your hand on my brow… O mother, mother, where am I now? Why is the room so gaunt and great… Why am I lying awake so late?

WHEN loud by landside streamlets… And clear in the greenwood quires… With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to me

I KNOW not how, but as I count The beads of former years, Old laughter catches in my throat With the very feel of tears.