Out of it all but this remains: I was with one who crossed wide ch… Of the Cordilleras, whose peaks Lock in the wilds of Yucatan, Chiapas and Honduras. Weeks

The tufted gold of the sassafras, And the gold of the spicewood-bush… Bewilder the ways of the forest pa… And brighten the underbrush: The white-starred drifts of the wi…

Now ’tis the time when, tall, The long blue torches of the bellf… Among the trees; and, by the woode… In many a fragrant ball, Blooms of the button-bush fall.

Woods of wonder, wonder ways, Where the Faery Piper plays, Bidding all to up and follow Over haunted hill and hollow, And behold again the Fays

They who take courage from their o… Are victors too, no matter how muc…

Whenever on the windowpane I hear the fingers of the rain, And in the old trees, near the doo… The wind that whispers more and mo… Bright in the light made by the la…

The mellow smell of hollyhocks And marigolds and pinks and phlox Blends with the homely garden scen… Of onions, silvering into rods; Of peppers, scarlet with their pod…

When the poppies, with their shiel… Sentinel Forest and the harvest fields, In the bell Of a blossom, fair to see,

What will you send her, What will you tell her, That shall unbend her, That shall compel her? Love, that shall fold her

Baroque, but beautiful, between th… The valves of nacre of a mussel-sh… Behold, a pearl! shaped like the b… Of some strange blossom that long… Of summer coax to open: all the mo…

No more to strip the roses from The rose-boughs of her porch’s pla… I dreamed last night that I was h… Beside a rose her face. I must have smiled in sleep who kn…

The memory of what we’ve lost Is with us more than what we’ve wo… Perhaps because we count the cost By what we could, yet have not don… ‘Twixt act and purpose fate hath d…

Loss molds our lives in many ways, And fills our souls with guesses; Upon our hearts sad hands it lays Like some grave priest that blesse… Far better than the love we win,

She comes, the dreamy daughter Of day and night, a girl, Who o’er the western water Lifts up her moon of pearl: Like some Rebecca at the well,

An agate-black, your roguish eyes Claim no proud lineage of the skie… No starry blue; but of good earth The reckless witchery and mirth. Looped in your raven hair’s repose…