With fall on fall, from wood to wo… The brook pours mossy music down Or is it, in the solitude, The murmur of a Faery town? A town of Elfland filled with bel…

PROEM THE Nights of song and story, With breath of frost and rain, Whose locks are wild and hoary, Whose fingers tap the pane

With soul self-blind Do n’t struggle on merely at last… The best of life, the dream, is le… Why desperately! Struggle and strive? after long ye…

The clouds that tower in storm, th… Arterial thunder in their veins; The wildflowers lifting, shyly swe… Their perfect faces from the plain… All high, all lowly things of Ear…

I heard the wind last night that c… Like some old skipper’s ghost outs… And on the roof the rain that tram… Like feet of seamen on a deck stor… Against the pane the Night with s…

There’s a story no one knows, But myself, about a rose And a fairy and a star Where the Toyland people are. Once when I had gone to bed,

Low clouds, the lightning veins an… Torn from the forest of the storm, Sweep westward like enormous leave… O’er field and farm. And in the west, on burning skies,

Each form of beauty’s but the new… Of thoughts more beautiful than fo… Sceptics, who search with unanoint… Never the Earth’s wild fairy-danc…

Like colored lanterns swung in El… Wild morning-glories light the tan… And, like the rosy rockets of the… Burns the sloped crimson of the ca…

Aisles and abysses; leagues no man… Of rock that labyrinths and night… Where everlasting silence broods,… Of adamant, o’er earthquake-builde… Where forms, such as the Demon-Wo…

Those hewers of the clouds, the W… At the four compass-points,-are ou… I hear their sandals trample on th… I hear their voices trumpet throug… Builders of storm, God’s workmen,…

UPON the iron crags of War I he… In battle speak while at their fee… In gulfs of human waters, A voice, intoning, ‘Where is God?… And to my heart, in doubt, I said…

There is nothing at all to do to-d… I can’t go out and run and play; For it’s raining and snowing and s… And Old Man Winter he is to blam… And I just sit here and think it…

The Woolworth Building ENORMOUSLY it lifts Its tower against the splendor of… Like some wild dream that drifts Before the mind, and at the will’s…

Winds that cavern heaven and the c… And canyon with cerulean blue, Great rifts down which the stormy… Like some bright seraph, who, Mailed in intensity of silver mail…