You, who are met to remember Kentucky and give her praise; Who have warmed your hearts at the… Of her love for many days! Be faithful to your mother,

IMPERIAL Madness, will of hand… Builds vast an altar here, and rea… Before the world, on godly land, A Moloch form of blood and tears. And far as eye can see, behold,

The shadows sit and stand about it… Like uninvited guests and poor; And all the long, hot summer day The grating locust dins its rounde… In one old sycamore.

When all the world was Mayday, And all the skies were blue, Young innocence made playday Among the flowers and dew; Then all of life was Mayday,

Who is she, like the spring, who c… From the hills to the smoke-huddle… With her peach-petal face And her wildflower grace, Bringing sunshine and gladness to…

Wrapped round of the night, as a m… Down, down through vast storeys of… Of the heaven, the thunder! on sta… Colossal of tread, like a giant, f… Goes striding in rattling armor...

The hat he wore was full of holes, And his battered shoes were worn t… His shirt was a rag, held together… And his trousers patched with outs… A negro tramp, a roustabout,

There’s a little fairy who Peeps from every dropp of dew: You can see him wink and shine On the morning-glory vine, Mischief in his eye of blue.

LOW, weed-climbed cliffs, o’er wh… The sea-mists swoon: Wind-twisted pines, through which… Goes winging slow: Dim fields, the sower never sows,

Once I gave a 'poppa-show’: And I had the greatest fun! Every boy and girl I know That is, nearly every one, Came to see it: I just put

Friend, for the sake of loves we h… The love of books, of paintings, r… And for the sake of that divine af… The love of art, passing the love… By which all life’s made nobler, s…

This is the place where visions co… Dreams of the trees and flowers, g… Where the white moon and the pale… Sitting with Legend and with dim… This is the place where all the si…

Pale faces looked up at me, up fro… Pale hands reached down to me, out… As over the hills, robed on with t… The Day’s last Hours, departed, a… Pale fingers beckoned me on; pale…

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?

This is the path he used to take, That ended at a rose-porched door: He takes it now for oldtime’s sake… And love of yore. The blue mertensia, by the stone,