Bee-Bitten in the orchard hung The peach; or, fallen in the weeds… Lay rotting, where still sucked an… The gray bee, boring to its seed’s Pink pulp and honey blackly stung.

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,

I HAD forgot how, in my day The Sabine fields around me lay In amaranth and asphodel, With many a cold Bandusian well Bright-bubbling by the mountain-wa…

Under the boughs of spring She swung in the old rope-swing. Her cheeks, with their happy blood… Were pink as the apple-bud. Her eyes, with their deep delight,

THERE is a glory in the apple bo… Of silver moonlight; like a torch… Burning upon an altar of sweet vow… Dropped from the hand of some wan… And there is life among the apple…

Deep with divine tautology, The sunset’s mighty mystery Again has traced the scroll-like w… With hieroglyphs of burning gold: Forever new, forever old,

Ah me! too soon the autumn comes Among these purple-plaintive hills… Too soon among the forest gums Premonitory flame she spills, Bleak, melancholy flame that kills…

The path that winds by wood and st… Is not the path for me to-day; The path I take is one of dream, That leads me down a twilight way. By towns, where myths have only be…

In some quaint Nurnberg maler-atelier Uprummaged. When and where was ne… Nor yet how he obtained it. When,… ’Twas painted-who shall say? itsel…

He was a boy, sun-burned and brown… And she a girl from a neighboring… Dark were her eyes and dark her ha… And her cheeks as red as the ripe… Dainty and sweet, with a far-away

The day is dead; and in the west The slender crescent of the moon Diana’s crystal-kindled crest Sinks hillward in a silvery swoon. What is the murmur in the dell?

Here where the season turns the la… Among the fields our feet have kno… When we were children who would la… Glad little playmates of the wind… Before came toil and care and year…

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,

What magic through your snowy crys… Your hollow spar, Spring brims wi… That, like the cup of Comus, drug… This woodland place, so drowsed wi… What miracle evolved you from the…

Sometimes, when I’m gone to-bed, And it’s all dark in the room, Seems I hear somebody tread Heavy, rustling through the gloom: And then something there goes ‘boo…