The firm house lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear A number in …
But what about the brook

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day

A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village
Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did

When I got up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,

The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift,
The road is forlorn all day,
Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift,

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door

THERE’S a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain

Dust always blowing about the town,
Except when sea-fog laid it down,
And I was one of the children told

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars

I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
promised myself to get down some day