Works

Down the steep west unrolled,
I watch the river of the sunset flow,
With all its crimson lights, and gleaming gold,
Into the dusk below.

And even as I gaze,...

There is a splendid tropic flower which flings
Its fiery disc wide open to the core--
One pulse of subtlest fragrance--once a life
That rounds a century of blossoming things...

The wind croons under the icicled eaves--
Croons and mutters a wordless song,
And the old elm chafes its skeleton leaves
Against the windows all night long.

Under the spectral garden wall,...

(In an Album.)


In the spring-time, out of the dew,
From my garden, sweet friend, I gather,
A garland of verses, or rather
A poem of blossoms for you.
...