YOU come to fetch me from my work
When supper’s on the table, and we
If I can leave off burying the wh
Soft petals fallen from the apple
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barr

A plow, they say, to plow the snow
They cannot mean to plant it, no—
Unless in bitterness to mock
At having cultivated rock.

Mary sat musing on the lamp—flame
Waiting for Warren. When she hear
She ran on tip—toe down the darken
To meet him in the doorway with th
And put him on his guard. “Silas

If tires of trees I seek again ma

Back out of all this now too much
Back in a time made simple by the
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and
Like graveyard marble sculpture in
There is a house that is no more a

I have been one acquainted with th
I have walked out in rain—and back
I have outwalked the furthest city
I have looked down the saddest cit
I have passed by the watchman on h

It was long I lay
Awake that night
Wishing that night
Would name the hour
And tell me whether

He halted in the wind, and - what
Far in the maples, pale, but not a
He stood there bringing March aga
And yet too ready to believe the m
'Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom

If, as they say, some dust thrown
Will keep my talk from getting ove
I’m not the one for putting off th
Let it be overwhelming, off a roof
And round a corner, blizzard snow

It went many years,
But at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door
With no lock to lock.
I blew out the light,