The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before, In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause His dextrous knife was balancing a bit...
The holy mountains, The gay streams, Heavy shadows, And tall, trembling trees; The light that sleeps Between the heavy shadows, Wind that creeps Faintly, from far-off seas---- ...
The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain,...
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers The golden lights go out . . . The yellow windows darken, the shades are drawn, In thousands of rooms we sleep, we await the dawn,...
You read, what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand turns the page. I watch you from my window, unsuspected:...
The cigarette-smoke loops and slides above us, Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes; You strike a match and stare upon the flame. The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a moment,...
The half-shut doors through which we heard that music Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence. The stars whirl out, the night grows deep. Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain...
How fancy romped and played here, Building this house of moss! A faery house, the shade here And sunlight gleam across; And how it danced and swayed here,...
Laddie, my lad, when ye gang at the tail o' the plough An' the days draw in, When the burnin' yellow's awa' that was aince a-lowe On the braes o' whin, Do ye mind o' me that's deaved wi' the wearyfu' south...
A more humane Mikado never Did in Japan exist, To nobody second, I'm certainly reckoned A true philanthropist, It is my very humane endeavor To make, to some extent, Each evil liver...
At evening when the aspens rustled soft And the last blackbird by the hedge-nest laughed, And through the leaves the moon's unmeaning face Looked, and then rose in dark-blue leafless space;...
Darkly October; Where the wild fowl fly, Utters a harsh and melancholy cry; And slowly closing, far a sunset door, Day wildly glares upon.the world once more, Where Twilight, with one star to lamp her by,...
Have ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen, Through cane-brake and forest, the hunting of men? The lords of our land to this hunting have gone, As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn;...
He is clean gold, he is Heaven about the sun, he is a silver vessel having wine in it; he is an angel, he is the wisdom of saints; everyone that is doing the will of the King. ...