O thou who lovest not alone The swift success, the instant goa… But hast a lenient eye to mark The failures of th’ inconstant sou… Consider not my little worth,—

With April here, And first thin green on the awaken… What wonderful things and dear, My tired heart to cheer, At last appear!

Tons upon tons the brown-green fra… O’erbrims the mows beyond the time… Up to the rafters where the spider… Though few flies wander his seclud… Through a high chink one lonely go…

He who would start and rise Before the crowing cocks,— No more he lifts his eyes, Whoever knocks. He who before the stars

(from “The Sprightly Pilgrim”) I sat and read Anacreon. Moved by the gay, delicious measur… I mused that lips were made for lo… And love to charm a poet’s leisure…

I see the harsh, wind-ridden, east… By the red cattle pastured, blanch… The small, mossed hillocks where t… The grey webs woven on milkweed to… The sparse, pale grasses flicker,…

O Child of Nations, giant-limbed, Who stand’st among the nations now Unheeded, unadored, unhymned, With unanointed brow,— How long the ignoble sloth, how lo…

Now along the solemn heights Fade the Autumn’s altar-lights;    Down the great earth’s glimmeri… Glide the days and nights. Little kindred of the grass,

A faint wind, blowing from World’… Made strange the city street. A strange sound mingled in the fal… Of the familiar feet. Something unseen whirled with the…

O thou who hast beneath Thy hand The dark foundations of the land,— The motion of whose ordered though… An instant universe hath wrought,— Who hast within Thine equal heed

A high bare field, brown from the… Aslant from sunset; amber wastes o… Washing the ridge; a clamour of cr… In from the wide flats where the s… To yon their rocking roosts in pin…

I was spawned from the glacier, A thousand miles due north Beyond Cape Chidley; And the spawning, When my vast, wallowing bulk went…

Sang the sun rise on an amber morn… ‘Earth, be glad! An April day is… ’Winter’s done, and April’s in th… Earth, look up with laughter in yo… Putting off her dumb dismay of sno…

Comes the lure of green things gro… Comes the call of waters flowing - And the wayfarer desire Moves and wakes and would be going… Hark the migrant hosts of June

A brown sad-coloured hillside, whe… Fresh from the frequent harrow, de… Lies bare; no break in the remote… Save where a flock of pigeons stre… Startled from feed in some low-lyi…