MY tent stands in a garden Of aster and goldenrod, Tilled by the rain and the sunshin… And sown by the hand of God,— An old New England pasture

OVER the rim of a lacquered bowl… Where a cold blue water-color stan… I see the wintry breakers roll And heave their froth up the freez… Here in immunity safe and dull,

MORTAL, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Passing on her silent way,

I know a vale where I would go on… When June comes back and all the… Is glad with summer. Deep in shad… A mighty cleft between the bosomin… A cool dim gateway to the mountain…

WHEN the first silent frost has… The ghost-yard of the goldenrod, And laid the blight of his cold ha… Upon the warm autumnal land, And all things wait the subtle cha…

I SEE the great blue heron Rising among the reeds And floating down the wind, Like a gliding sail With the set of the stream.

Hem and Haw were the sons of sin, Created to shally and shirk; Hem lay ‘round and Haw looked on While God did all the work. Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a pri…

For The Brthday Of James Whitco… LOCKERBIE STREET is a littl… Just one block long; But the days go there with a magic… The whole year long.

THE fireflies across the dusk Are flashing signals through the g… Courageous messengers of light That dare immensities of doom. About the seeding meadow-grass,

Halleluja! What sound is this across the dark While all the earth is sleeping?… Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja! Why are thy tender eyes so bright,

Lord of my heart’s elation, Spirit of things unseen, Be thou my aspiration Consuming and serene! Bear up, bear out, bear onward

FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears

What need have you of praising? C… Some lonely poet no one praises ye… Him rather would I choose, that h… A fellow-craftsman knew him, marke… But you—the whole world praises yo…

The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide Until the coming of the tide.

The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, A burly velveted rover, Who loves the booming wind in his… As he sails the seas of clover. A waif of the goblin pirate crew,