Above the circus of the world she… Beautiful and base, a harlot crown… Fierce nations, upon whom she snee… Shrieked at her feet and for her p…

Whether it be that we in letters t… The pure exactness of a wood bird’… And name it song; or with the brus… The high perfection of a wildflowe… Or mold in difficult marble all th…

Who knows the things they dream, a… Or feel, who lie beneath the groun… Perhaps the flowers, the leaves, a… That close them round. In spring the violets may spell

Love one day, in childish anger, Tired of his divinity, Sick of rapture, sick of languor, Threw his arrows in the sea. Since then Ocean, like a woman,

Summer may come, in sun-blonde spl… To reap the harvest that Springti… And Fall lead in her old defender… Winter, all huddled up in snows: Ever a-south the love-wind blows

HE found the long room as it was… Glimmering with sunset’s gold; That made the tapestries seem full… Strange with a wild surmise: Glaring upon a Psyche where she s…

To me all beauty that I see Is melody made visible: An earth-translated state, may be, Of music heard in Heaven or Hell. Out of some love-impassioned strai…

Again the earth, miraculous with… Unfolds its vernal arras. Yestery… We strolled together 'neath the gr… And heard the robin tune its flute… And watched above the white cloud…

‘We have the receipt of fern seed:… —HENRY IV And we have met but twice or thric… Three times enough to make me love… I praised your hair once; then you…

What wood-god, on this water’s mos… Lost in reflections of earth’s lov… Did I, just now, unconsciously di… I, who haphazard, wandering at a g… Came on this spot, wherein, with g…

It’s ‘Gallop and go!’ and ‘Slow,… With every man in this life below But the things of this world are a… The postchaise Time that all must… Is old with clay and dust;

Old Sis Snow, with hair ablow, Down the road now see her go! Her old gown pulled back and pinne… Round her legs by Wild-boy Wind Ough n’t he to just be skinned?

An old lane, an old gate, an old h… A wild wood, a wild brook they wil… In boyhood I knew them, and still… Down deep in my heart’s core I he… Through tear-mists behold them ben…

Tattered, in ragged raiment of the… The Night arrives. Outside the wi… He stands and, streaming, taps upo… Or, crouching down beside the cell… Letting his hat-brim drain,

What words of mine can tell the sp… Of garden ways I know so well?- The path that takes me in the spri… Past quince-trees where the bluebi… And peonies are blossoming,