WHEN night drifts along the stre… And sifts down between the uneven… My mind begins to peek and peer. It plays at ball in old, blue Chi… And shakes wrought dice-cups in P…

Be not angry with me that I bear Your colours everywhere, All through each crowded street, And meet The wonder-light in every eye,

As one who sails upon a wide, blue… Far out of sight of land, his mind… Upon the sailing of his little boa… On tightening ropes and shaping fa… Hears suddenly, across the restles…

The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…

You want to know what’s the matter… My! ain’t men blinder’n moles? It ain’t nothin’ new, be sure o’ t… Why, ef you’d had eyes you’d ha’ s… Me changin’ under your very nose,

The Poet took his walking-stick Of fine and polished ebony. Set in the close-grained wood Were quaint devices; Patterns in ambers,

Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-...

How the slates of the roof sparkle… beyond the high wall! How quietly… over there, over there, sliding th… of the line, stately with canvas,… over the glittering roof, over the…

There was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk. He sat in an upper chamber

Good ev’nin’, Mis’ Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Goo… Yes, it’s all over. All my things is packed An’ every last one o’ them boxes

Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mar… from a village miles away, all day… far roaming. I cannot walk as ligh… I am heavier than I was. Mary Mo… Beautiful Holy Lady, take my sham…

Our meeting was like the upward sw… In the blue night. I do not know when it burst; But now I stand gaping, In a glory of falling stars.

My heart is tuned to sorrow, and t… Vibrate most readily to minor chor… Searching and sad; my mind is stuf… Which voice the passion and the ac… Illusions beating with their baffl…

Gushing from the mouths of stone m… To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble their feet And rustle to a passing wind,