At the end of the row
I stepped on the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow

We dance round in a ring and suppo
But the Secret sits in the middle

ONCE on the kind of day called “
When the heat slowly hazes and the
By its own power seems to be undon
I was half boring through, half cl
A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil

As told to a child
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, 'Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise

I left you in the morning,
And in the morning glow,
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.
Do you know me in the gloaming,

It is blue-butterfly day here in s
And with these sky-flakes down in
There is more unmixed color on the
Than flowers will show for days un
But these are flowers that fly and

He saw her from the bottom of the
Before she saw him. She was star
Looking back over her shoulder at
She took a doubtful step and then
To raise herself and look again.

Something inspires the only cow of
To make no more of a wall than an
And think no more of wall—builders
Her face is flecked with pomace an
A cider syrup. Having tasted frui

I WALKED down alone Sunday aft
To the place where John has been
To see for myself about the birch
He said I could have to bush my p
The sun in the new-cut narrow gap