Little leaves, that lean your ears From each branch and bough of spri… What is that your rapture hears? Song of bird or flight of wing, All so eager, little ears?

‘I rode to death, for I fought fo… The Lady Maurine of noble name, ’The fair and faithless!-Though l… Is love the wiser?-Love made song ‘Of all my life; and the soul that…

As I went through the wood, the w… Through fern and pimpernel, A water fell, a water stood, Twinkling within a dell, And Naiad fancies, gleaming, hung

First of the insect choir, in the… We hear his faint voice fluttering… Beneath some blossom’s rosy coveri… Or frond of fern upon a wildwood p… When in the marsh, in clamorous or…

It seemed the listening forest hel… Before some vague and unapparent f… Of fear, approaching with the wing… On the impending storm. Above the hills, big, bellying clo…

About the time when bluebells swin… Their elfin belfries for the bee And in the fragrant House of Spri… Wild Music moves; and Fantasy Sits weaving webs of witchery:

Crab-Faced, crab-tongued, with de… Unfriendly and unfriended lived th… Upon the common in her hut, alone, Past which but seldom any villager… Some said she was a witch and rode…

The gladness of our Southern spri… Of summer; and the dreaminess of f… Are parts of her sweet nature. Su… Was Ruth’s, methinks, divinely sp…

There’s a house across the street That nobody goes into; Say it’s haunted, yes, they do; Ghosts livethere, they say, or mee… Saw one in a winding-sheet

Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.

Hold to the rapture: let it work Inward till founts of being fill, And all is clear that once was mur… And Beauty’s self rise, mirrored… Before the mind, that shall devise

All night I lay upon the rocks: And now the dawn comes up this way… One great star trembling in her lo… Of rosy ray. I can not tell the things I’ve se…

Where are they, that song and tale Tell of? lands our childhood knew? Sea-locked Faerylands that trail Morning summits, dim with dew, Crimson o’er a crimson sail.

The flute, whence Summer’s dreamy… Drew music, ripening the pinched k… The burly chestnut and the chinqua… Red-rounding-out the oval haws and… Now Winter crushes to his stormy…

Out in Oldham County once Met a boy who showed me how He could milk an old red cow. Yes; he was n’t any dunce. Put me on an old-gray mare;