Wind of the dead men’s feet, Blow down the empty street Of this old city by the sea With news for me! Blow me beyond the grime

I heard the spring wind whisper Above the brushwood fire, ‘The world is made forever Of transport and desire. ’I am the breath of being,

Halleluja! What sound is this across the dark While all the earth is sleeping?… Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja! Why are thy tender eyes so bright,

THIS is a holy refuge, The garden of Saint Rose, A fragrant altar to that peace The world no longer knows. Below a solemn hillside,

O all the little rivers that run t… They call me and call me to follow… Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Curr… Dancing and sparkling I see them… I hear the brawling rapid, the thu…

THE fireflies across the dusk Are flashing signals through the g… Courageous messengers of light That dare immensities of doom. About the seeding meadow-grass,

FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears

The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide Until the coming of the tide.

One August day I sat beside A café window open wide To let the shower-fresh ened air Blow in across the Plaza, where In golden pomp against the dark

BROWNING, old fellow, Your leaves grow yellow, Beginning to mellow As seasons pass. Your cover is wrinkled,

The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, A burly velveted rover, Who loves the booming wind in his… As he sails the seas of clover. A waif of the goblin pirate crew,

THESE things I remember Of New England June, Like a vivid day-dream In the azure noon, While one haunting figure

In Memory of John Keats By the Aurelian Wall, Where the long shadows of the cent… From Caius Cestius’ tomb, A weary mortal seeking rest found…

I know a vale where I would go on… When June comes back and all the… Is glad with summer. Deep in shad… A mighty cleft between the bosomin… A cool dim gateway to the mountain…