Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,… Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more… Than small white single poppies,—… Thy beauty; though I bend before… From left to right, not knowing wh…

Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,—presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain

There will be rose and rhododendro… When you are dead and under ground… Still will be heard from white syr… Heavy with bees, a sunny sound; Still will the tamaracks be rainin…

The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the train… Would make a sound as thin and swe… As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade

I had forgotten how the frogs must… After a year of silence, else I t… I should not so have ventured fort… At dusk upon this unfrequented roa… I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will…

And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - So much is true. And why you come complaining

ALL right, Go ahead! What’s in a name? I guess I’ll be locked into As much as I’m locked out of!

Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in a day or two. All the things we ever knew

Mine is a body that should die at… And have for a grave, instead of a… Six feet deep and the length of me… All the water that is under the wa… And terrible fishes to seize my fl…

The courage that my mother had Went with her, and is with her sti… Rock from New England quarried; Now granite in a granite hill. The golden brooch my mother wore

As to some lovely temple, tenantle… Long since, that once was sweet wi… Knowing well its altars ruined and… Grown up between the stones, yet f… Of grief hard driven, or great lon…

When we are old and these rejoicin… Are frosty channels to a muted str… And out of all our burning their r… No feeblest spark to fire us, even… This be our solace: that it was no…

Cherish you then the hope I shall… At length, my lord, Pieria?—put a… For your so passing sake, this mou… These mortal bones against my body… For all the puny fever and frail s…

Time cannot break the bird’s wing… Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you,