There were three in the meadow by
Gathering up windrows, piling hayc
With an eye always lifted toward t
Where an irregular, sun-bordered c
Darkly advanced with a perpetual d

They sent him back to her. The le
Saying... And she could have him.
She could be sure there was no hid
Under the formal writing, he was i
Living. They gave him back to her

“You ought to have seen what I sa
To the village, through Mortenson
Blueberries as big as the end of y
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and read
In the cavernous pail of the first

My Sorrow, when she’s here with m
Thinks these dark days of autumn r
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered t
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

`You know Orion always comes up s
Throwing a leg up over our fence o
And rising on his hands, he looks
Busy outdoors by lantern—light wit
I should have done by daylight, an

We sit indoors and talk of the col
And every gust that gathers streng
Is a threat to the house. But the
We think of the tree. If it never
We’ll know, we say, that this was

As I came to the edge of the wood
Thrush music —hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Too dark in the woods for a bird

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night come
But let there never be curtain dra
Between you and me.
Vague dream—head lifted out of the

NOW that they’ve got it settled w
I’m going to tell them something t
They’ve got it settled wrong, and
Flattered I must be to have two t
To make a present of me to each ot

I’m going out to clean the pasture
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves
(And wait to watch the water clear
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come
I’m going out to fetch the little