What is it now that I shall seek Where woods dip downward, in the h… A mossy nook, a ferny creek, And May among the daffodils. Or in the valley’s vistaed glow,

There is a field, that leans upon… Foamed o’er of flowers and twinkli… That in its girdle of wild acres b… The anodyne of rest that cures all… Wherein soft wind and sun and soun…

Lying alone I dreamed a dream las… Methought that Joy had come to co… For all the past, its suffering an… Yet in my heart I felt this could… All that he said unreal seemed and…

There is no joy of earth that thri… My bosom like the far-off hills! Th’ unchanging hills, that, shadow… Beckon our mutability To follow and to gaze upon

The hornets build in plaster-dropp… And on its mossy porch the lizard… Around its chimneys slow the swall… And on its roof the locusts snow t… Like some sad thought that broods…

I look about me, and behold How all is changed: The sound and… The kind, the true, the hale and o… That once made strong the features… Of life, are cast in other mold,

From 'Wild Thorn and Lily’ Among the white haw-blossoms, wher… Droned under drifts of dogwood and… The redbird, like a crimson blosso… Against the snow-white bosom of th…

What would it mean for you and me If dawn should come no more! Think of its gold along the sea, Its rose above the shore! That rose of awful mystery,

All the poppies in their beds Nodding crumpled crimson heads; And the larkspurs, in whose ears Twilight hangs, like twinkling tea… Sleepy jewels of the rain;

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…

When Lydia smiles, I seem to see The walls around me fade and flee; And, lo, in haunts of hart and hin… I seem with lovely Rosalind, In Arden 'neath the greenwood tre…

So Love is dead, the Love we knew… And in the sorrow of our hearts’ h… A lute lies broken and a flower fa… Love’s house stands empty and his… Lone in dim places, where sweet vo…

When the hornet hangs in the holly… And the brown bee drones i’ the ro… And the west is a red-streaked fou… And summer is near its close– It’s oh, for the gate and the locu…

WHEN pearl and gold, o’er deeps… The moon curves, silvering the dus… As in a garden, dreaming, A lily slips its dewy husk A firefly in its gleaming,—

Each form of beauty’s but the new… Of thoughts more beautiful than fo… Sceptics, who search with unanoint… Never the Earth’s wild fairy-danc…