I love the stony pasture That no one else will have. The old gray rocks so friendly see… So durable and brave. In tranquil contemplation

On The Dunes HERE all night on the dunes In the rocking wind we sleep; Watched by the sentry stars, Lulled by the drone of the deep.

WHO called us forth out of darkne… Who set our hands to the toiling,… Darkly they mused, predestined to… Sowing the seed of wisdom, guardin… Little they reckoned privation, hu…

Harvard, 1914 SIR, friends, and scholars, we ar… A high occasion. Our New England… All her unrivalled beauty as of ol… And June, with scent of bayberry…

NOW the joys of the road are chie… A crimson touch on the hard-wood t… A vagrant’s morning wide and blue, In early fall, when the wind walks… A shadowy highway cool and brown,

There is fog upon the river, there… You can hear the groping ferries a… From the Battery to Harlem there’… Through looming granite canyons of… Are you sick of phones and tickers…

Said a traveller by the way Pausing, "What hast thou to say, Flower by the dusty road, That would ease a mortal’s load?" Traveller, hearken unto me!

TO the assembled folk At great St. Kavin’s spoke Young Brother Amiel on Christmas… I give you joy, my friends, That as the round year ends,

Over the hills of April With soft winds hand in hand, Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, Spring leads her saraband. Her garments float and gather

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,

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.

MORTAL, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Passing on her silent way,

OVER the rim of a lacquered bowl… Where a cold blue water-color stan… I see the wintry breakers roll And heave their froth up the freez… Here in immunity safe and dull,

NOW the little rivers go Muffled safely under snow, And the winding meadow streams Murmur in their wintry dreams, While a tinkling music wells

When the dawn winds whisper To the standing corn, And the rose of morning From the dark is born, All my shadowy garden