In fairyland the little boys Would rather fight than eat their… They like to chase a gauze-winged… And catch and beat him till he squ… Sometimes they come to sleeping me…

The arts are old, old as the stone… From which man carved the sphinx a… Deep are the days the old arts bri… Ten thousand years of yesteryear. She is madonna in an art

[How different people and differen… The Old Horse in the City The moon’s a peck of corn. It lie… Heaped up for me to eat. I wish that I might climb the pat…

Thou wilt not sentence to eternal… My soul that prays that it may sle… Like a white statue dropped into t… Covered with sand, covered with ch… And slave-bones, tossed from many…

If you lay for Iago at the stage… You have missed the moral of the p… He will have a midnight supper wit… They will chirp together and be ga… But the things Iago stands for mu…

(A Poem Game.) “And when the Queen of Sheba hear… [The men’s leader rises as he sees… Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sh… [He bows three times.]

FOR A VERY LITTLE GI… CATHARINE FRAZEE WAKEF… The sun gives not directly The coal, the diamond crown; Not in a special basket

“The sun says his prayers,” said t… Or else he would wither and die. “The sun says his prayers,” said t… “For strength to climb up through… He leans on invisible angels,

Ah, in the night, all music haunts… Is it for naught high Heaven crac… And the tremendous Amaranth desce… Sweet with the glory of ten thousa… Does it not mean my God would hav…

[Concerning Edgar Allan Poe]<… Who now will praise the Wizard in… With loyal songs, with humors grav… This Jingle-man, of strolling pla… Whom holy folk have hurried by in…

I asked the old Negro, “What i… I. IN WHICH A RACIN… This is the order of the music of… First, from the far East comes bu… The crooning turns to a sunrise si…

Hungry for music with a desperate… I prowled abroad, I threaded thro… The evening crowd was clamoring an… Vulgar and pitiful—my heart bowed… Till I remembered duller hours ma…

Even the shrewd and bitter, Gnarled by the old world’s greed, Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need. Shelter and patient hearing,

Where a river roars in rapids And doves in maples fret, Where peace has decked the pasture… Our guardian angels met. Long they had sought each other

They say one king is mad. Perhaps… They say one king is doddering and… They say one king is slack and sic… A puppet for hid strings that twit… Is Europe then to be their sprawl…