Here is a tale for infants and old… There was a man who gathered rags;… Who lived alone: with no one ever… And this old man was very fond of… His house, a ruin, so the tale reh…

The dawn is a warp of fever, The eve is a woof of fire; And the month is a singing weaver Weaving a red desire. With stars Dawn dices with Even

Can one resolve and hunt it from o… This love, this god and fiend, tha… Of many a life, in ways no tongue… No mind divine, nor any word impar… Would not one think the slights th…

The slender snail clings to the le… Gray on its silvered underside; And slowly, slowlier than the snai… Bright steps, whose ripening touch… Her warm hands berry-dyed,

This is the heart’s own day: With dreaming eyes Life seems to look away Beyond the skies Into some long-gone May.

All the roses now are gone, All their glories shed: Here’s a rose that grows not wan, Rose of love to wear upon Your fair breast instead.

From 'Wild Thorn and Lily’ Among the white haw-blossoms, wher… Droned under drifts of dogwood and… The redbird, like a crimson blosso… Against the snow-white bosom of th…

Where rise the brakes of bramble t… Wrapped with the trailing rose; Through cane where waters ramble,… Where deep the sword-grass grows, Who knows?

The gods are dead; but still for m… Lives on in wildwood brook and tre… Each myth, each old divinity. For me still laughs among the rock… The Naiad; and the Dryad’s locks

The Winter Wind, the wind of deat… Who knocked upon my door, Now through the keyhole entereth, Invisible and hoar: He breathes around his icy breath

THEY hold their own, they have n… In gloom and glow, in hopes and fe… In love and terror, hovering round The lore of that enchanted ground!… That mystic region, where one hear…

The gray dawn finds me thinking st… Of thee who hadst my thoughts all… Of thee, who art my lute’s sweet s… And of my soul the only light; My star of song to whom I turn

THE rose, that wrote its message… Bright manuscript, has turned her… Towards Fall, and waits, heart-he… Pale flower to take her place. With eyes distraught, and dark dis…

Beneath an old beech-tree They sat together, Fair as a flower was she Of summer weather. They spoke of life and love,

I. SPRING ON THE HILLS Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, The Spring, as wild wings follow? Where wild-plum trees make wan the… Crabapple trees the hollow,