All things are wrought of melody, Unheard, yet full of speaking spel… Within the rock, within the tree, A soul of music dwells. A mute symphonic sense that thrill…

She sleeps; he sings to her. The… And, tired out with too much happi… She fain would have him sing of ol… Quaint songs, that spoke of love i… Her restless soul was straight bes…

Red-Faced as old carousal, and wi… A hard, hot blue; her hair a frows… Bold, dowdy-bosomed, from her wido… She leans, her mouth all insult an… Or slattern-slippered and in slutt…

April calling, April calling, April calling me! I hear the voice of April there In each old apple tree: Bee-boom and wild perfume,

From the hills and far away All the long, warm summer day Comes the wind and seems to say: ‘Come, oh, come! and let us go Where the meadows bend and blow,

The days that clothed white limbs… And rocked the red rose on their b… Have passed with amber-sandaled fe… Into the ruby-gated west. These were the days that filled th…

THE WIND IN THE PINES WHEN winds go organing through t… On hill and headland, darkly gleam… Meseems I hear sonorous lines Of Iliads that the woods are drea…

The Voice of a Man WHAT of the Night, O Watcher? The Voice of a Woman Yea, what of it? The Watcher

There is no Paradise like that wh… Deep in the heavens of her azure e… There is no Eden here on Earth th… Like that which smiles rich in her…

Ah me! I shall not waken soon From dreams of such divinity! A spirit singing 'neath the moon To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm

Let us mix a cup of Joy That the wretched may employ, Whom the Fates have made their to… Who have given brain and heart To the thankless world of Art,

What is the gold of mortal-kind To that men find Deep in the poet’s mind! That magic purse Of Dreams from which

Three memories hold us ever With longing and with pain; Three memories Time has never Been able to restrain; That in each life remain

THE Day brims high its ewer Of blue with starry light, And crowns as King that hewer Of clouds (which take their flight Across the sky) old Night.

The west builds high a sepulcher Of cloudy granite and of gold, Where twilight’s priestly hours in… The Day like some great king of o… A censer, rimmed with silver fire,