Come with me where April twilight… Wigwam blue the April hills; Where the shadows and the high lig… Swarm the woods that Springtime f… Tents where dwell the tribes of be…

How long ago it is since we went… Since she and I went Maying long… The years have left my forehead li… Have thinned my hair around the te… Ah, time will change us: yea, I h…

Deep in a valley, green with ancie… And wandered through of one small,… Whose bear-grassed banks bristled… Tick-trefoil and the thorny marigo… Bush-clover and the wahoo, hung wi…

Under rocks whereon the rose Like a streak of morning glows; Where the azure-throated newt Drowses on the twisted root; And the brown bees, humming homewa…

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 roses mourn for her who sleeps Within the tomb; For her each lily-flower weeps Dew and perfume. In each neglected flower-bed

‘These winter days,’ my father say… ‘When mornings blow and bite and f… And hens sit cackling in the straw… Stiff with the frost as gates that… Remind me of my youth when, raw,

When wildflower blue and wildflowe… The wildflowers lay their heads to… And the moon-moth glimmers along t… And the wandering firefly flares i… And the full moon rises broad and…

The sun set late; and left along t… A belt of furious ruby, o’er which… Of clouds unrolled; each cloud a m… Blooming with almond-rose. The sun set late; and wafts of win…

A Tortured tree in a huddled holl… On whose gnarled boughs three leav… A strip of path that the hunters f… That leads to fields of the wind’s… And a rain-washed hill with the wi…

In heavens of riveted blue, that s… With glaucous flame, deep in the w… Stands Midas-like; or, wading on… Touches with splendor all the twil… Each cloud that, like a stepping-s…

THE season of the rose and peace… It could not last. There’s heartbreak in the hills an… Of sorrow in the rain-lashed plain… While Earth regards, aghast,

A sense of sadness in the golden a… A pensiveness, that has no part in… As if the Season, by some woodlan… Braiding the early blossoms in her… Seeing her loveliness reflected th…

Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.

That day we wandered ‘mid the hill… Clouds are not lonelier, the fores… In emerald darkness round us. Man… And gnarly root, gray-mossed, made… And many a bird the glimmering lig…