The line—storm clouds fly tattered
The road is forlorn all day,
Where a myriad snowy quartz stones
And the hoof—prints vanish away.
The roadside flowers, too wet for

BROWN lived at such a lofty farm
That everyone for miles could see
His lantern when he did his chores
In winter after half-past three.
And many must have seen him make

Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in th
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily “Hit them har
I knew pretty well why he had drop

It was far in the sameness of the
I was running with joy on the Dem
Though I knew what I hunted was n
It was just as the light was begin
That I suddenly heard’—all I need

To Ridgely Torrence
On Last Looking into His 'Hesper
I often see flowers from a passing
That are gone before I can tell w
I want to get out of the train and

A scent of ripeness from over a wa
And come to leave the routine road
And look for what had made me stal
There sure enough was an apple tre
That had eased itself of its summe

As I went down the hill along the
There was a gate I had leaned at
And had just turned from when I f
As you came up the hill. We met.
We did that day was mingle great a

He thought he kept the universe al
For all the voice in answer he cou
Was but the mocking echo of his ow
From some tree-hidden cliff across
Some morning from the boulder-brok

Once when the snow of the year was
We stopped by a mountain pasture t
A little Morgan had one forefoot
The other curled at his breast. H
And snorted at us. And then he ha

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