I THOUGHT of death beside the… That went beyond the limit of my s… Seeming the image of his mastery, The semblance of his huge and gloo… But firm beneath the sea went the…

Where love is life The roses blow, Though winds be rude And cold the snow, The roses climb

Here in the inmost of the master’s… This violet crisp with early dew Has come to leave her beauty and t… With all her vivid hue. And while in hollow glades and del…

Set within a desert lone, Circled by an arid sea, Stands a figure carved in stone, Where a fountain used to be. Two abraded, pleading hands

The night is old, and all the worl… Is wearied out with strife; A long gray mist lies heavy and wa… Above the house of life. Four stars burn up and are unquell…

Here is the height of land: The watershed on either hand Goes down to Hudson Bay Or Lake Superior; The stars are up, and far away

A ROBIN in the morning, In the morning early, Sang a song of warning, “There’ll be rain, there’ll be rai… Very, very clearly

Here at the roots of the mountains… Between the sombre legions of ceda… The rapids charge the ravine: A little light, cast by foam under… Wavers about the shimmering stems…

(The refrain is quoted by Edward… one of his letters) Growing, growing, all the glory go… Flashing out of fire and light, bu… All the world’s a-dying and failin…

Far in the east the rain-clouds sw… Down the long haggard hills, forml… Far in the west the shell-tints me… Piled gray and tender blue and ros… East—like a fiend, the bolt-breast…

THE slender moon and one pale sta… A rose leaf and a silver bee From some god’s garden blown afar, Go down the gold deep tranquilly. Within the south there rolls and g…

I DWELL in the sea that is wild… But afar in a shadow still, I can see the trees that gather an… In the wood upon the hill. The deeps are green as an emerald’…

Crown her with stars, this angel o… Cover her with morning, this thing… Mantle her with midnight till a mo… See her for the garments of the li… How far I wandered, worlds away a…

The Earth moans in her sleep Like an old mother Whose sons have gone to the war, Who weeps silently in her heart Till dreams comfort her.

Dear Morris—here is your letter— Can my answer reach you now? Fate has left me your debtor, You will remember how; For I went away to Nantucket,