Not into these dark cities, These sordid marts and streets, That the sun in his rising pities, And the moon with sorrow greets, Does she, with her dreams and flow…

Where are they, that song and tale Tell of? lands our childhood knew? Sea-locked Faerylands that trail Morning summits, dim with dew, Crimson o’er a crimson sail.

‘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,

Once a charcoal wagon passed, And an old black charcoalman, ‘Blacker than a midnight blast,’ Mother said. And he began Crying, ‘Charcoal! charcoal!

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,

What mines the morning heavens unf… What far Alaskas of the skies! That, veined with elemental gold, Sierra on Sierra rise. Heap up the gold of all the world,

Rain and wind and candlelight And let us pray a prayer to-night: For every soul, since life is brie… Little of trouble and less of grie… And set a light at the windowpane,

There’s a boy who lives next door; And this boy is just as bad As a boy can be; and poor! He’s so poor it makes me sad When I see him. Out at knee;

Far as the eye can see the land is… And desolation sits among the ston… Looking on ruin who, from rocks li… Stares with a dead face at the dyi… Mounds, where the barberry and bay…

What is it now that I shall seek Where woods dip downward, in the h… A mossy nook, a ferny creek, And May among the daffodils. Or in the valley’s vistaed glow,

Low, swallow-swept and gray, Between the orchard and the spring… All its wide windows overflowing h… And crannied doors a-swing, The old barn stands to-day.

When winds go organing through the… On hill and headland, darkly gleam… Meseems I hear sonorous lines Of Iliads that the woods are drea…

There is a poetry that speaks Through common things: the grassho… That in the hot weeds creaks and c… Says all of summer to my ear: And in the cricket’s cry I hear

A Far bell tinkles in the hollow, And heart and soul are fain to fol… Gone is the rose and gone the swal… Autumn is here. The wild geese draw at dusk their…

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