The ox-team and the automobile Stood face to face on the long red… The long red road was narrow At the turn of the hill, And below was the sun-dancing rive…

Sleep softly in your ocean bed, You who could grandly die! Our fathers, who at Shiloh bled, Accept your company. O sons of warriors, lightly rest,

BESIDE her ashen hearth she sat… Whence he she loved had fled,— His children plucking at her sombr… And calling for the dead. One came to her clad in the robes…

Sequoia, growing grandly Out of the long ago, Beloved of Time, whose sons March by to measures slow, How tenderly you cherish

Where bold Sierras cut the sky Mount Whitney, of the high most h… Halts the pale clouds that wander… We crept and climbed with eager fe… Until the world, fulfilled, comple…

Would you not be in Tryon    Now that the spring is here, When mocking-birds are praising    The fresh, the blossomy year? Look—on the leafy carpet

My little one, sleep softly Among the toys and flowers. Sleep softly, O my first-born son… Through all the long dark hours. And if you waken far away

Sometimes I laugh’€”what else can… Who does not know? This little eg… Braving the void, this fleck upon… This filmy wing sounding the starr… What bold abysmal incongruity,

Have you forgotten—you, the chief, The art-director, president, What not, of the establishment— Forgot how for a moment brief The whole show, all our strife and…

I love my life, but not too well To give it to thee like a flower, So it may pleasure thee to dwell Deep in its perfume but an hour. I love my life, but not too well.

STILL and calm, In purple robes of kings, The low-lying mountains sleep at t… The forests cover them like mantle… Day and night

She is so wee, So wise and dear Her eyes can see, Her ears can hear, The flowers that grow

You are a painter—listen— I’ll paint you a picture too! Of the long white lights that glis… Through Michigan Avenue; With the red lights down the middl…

FLOWER of the moon! Still white is her brow whom we wo… Yea, purer than pearls in deep sea… The dull years veil their eyes fro… Nor profane her with age—the immor…

Poet, sing me a song to-day! But the world grows old and my hai… Ah no! there are birds on the lila… And a snow-drop out of the wet ear… Two chattering robins are planning…