To H. E. C. THERE are sunflowers too in my g… Where now in the early September… The slow autumn sun that goes leis… Of life in the orchards and fir-wo…

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

Not in the ancient abbey, Nor in the city ground, Not in the lonely mountains, Nor in the blue profound, Lay him to rest when his time is c…

IN the day of battle, In the night of dread, Let one hymn be lifted, Let one prayer be said. Not for pride of conquest,

ALONG the wintry skyline, Crowning the rocky crest, Stands the bare screen of hardwood… Against the saffron west,— Its gray and purple network

I thank thee, Earth, for water go… The sea’s great bath of buoyant gr… Or the cold mountain torrent’s flo… That I may keep this body clean. I thank thee more for goodly wine,

OVER the wintry threshold Who comes with joy to-day, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,

I HEAR you, Brother, I hear you… Down in the alder swamp, Springing your woodland whistle To herald the April pomp! First of the moving vanguard,

LORD of the grass and hill, Lord of the rain, White Overlord of will, Master of pain, I who am dust and air

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

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

HERE we came when love was young… Now that love is old, Shall we leave the floor unswept And the hearth acold? Here the hill-wind in the dusk,

ABOVE the weary waiting world, Asleep in chill despair, There breaks a sound of joyous bel… Upon the frosted air. And o’er the humblest rooftree, lo…

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.

ALL day long beneath the sun Shining through the fields they ru… Singing in a cadence known To the seraphs round the throne. And the traveller drawing near