I nothing did all yesterday But listen to the singing rain On roof and weeping window-pane, And, 'whiles I'd watch the flying spray And smoking breakers in the bay: Nothing but this did I all day -...
Brother that ploughs the furrow I late ploughed, God give thee grace, and fruitful harvesting, Tis fair sweet earth, be it under sun or cloud, And all about it ever the birds sing. ...
There's a line of rails on an upland green With a good take-off and a landing sound, Six fences grim as were ever seen, And it's there I would be with fox and hound. Oh, that was a country free and fair...
When the embalmer closed my eyes, And all the family went in black, And shipped me off to Paradise, I had no thought of coming back; I dreamed of undisturbed repose Until the Judgment Day went crack,...
"These things are real," said one, and bade me gaze On black and mighty shapes of iron and stone, On murder, on madness, on lust, on towns ablaze, And on a thing made all of rattling bone:...
She failed me at the tryst: All the long afternoon The golden day went by, Until the rising moon; But, as I waited on, Turning my eyes about, Aching for sight of her,...
The Rose has left the garden, Here she but faintly lives, Lives but for me, Within this little urn of pot-pourri Of all that was And never more can be, While her black berries harden...
When last I saw this opening rose That holds the summer in its hand, And with its beauty overflows And sweetens half a shire of land, It was a black and cindered thing, Drearily rocking in the cold,...
In the long shimmer of the Sound May I some day be laughing found, Part of its restless to and fro, A humble worker of the tides That round the sleepless planet flow,...
I saw him in a picture, and I felt I'd like to cry - He stood in line, The man "for mine," A tall silk-hatted "guy" - Right on the call, Silk hat and all, He'd hurried to the cry -...
Water in hidden glens From the secret heart of the mountains, Where the red fox hath its dens And the gods their crystal fountains; Up runnel and leaping cataract,...
Let others from the feathered brood Which through the garden seeks its food Pick out for a commending word Each one his own peculiar bird; Hail the plump tit, or fitly sing...
It was deadly cold in Danbury town One terrible night in mid November, A night that the Danbury folk remember For the sleety wind that hammered them down, That chilled their faces and chapped their skin,...
The valiant girls - of them I sing - Who daily to their business go, Happy as larks, and fresh as spring; They are the bravest things I know. At eight, from out my lazy tower,...