- Pictures In The Fire
The wind croons under the icicled eaves--
Croons and mutters a wordless song,
And the old elm chafes its skeleton leaves
Against the windows all night long.
...
- The Ploughboy
I wonder what he is thinking
In the ploughing field all day.
He watches the heads of his oxen,
And never looks this way.
...
- A Farewell
Down the steep west unrolled,
I watch the river of the sunset flow,
With all its crimson lights, and gleaming gold,
Into the dusk below.
...
- A Madrigal
The lily-bells ring underground,
Their music small I hear
When globes of dew that shine pearl round
Hang in the cowslip's ear
...
- A November Wood-walk
Dead leaves are deep in all our forest walks;
Their brightest tints not all extinguished yet,
Shine redly glimmering through the dewy wet;
And whereso'er thy musing foot is set,
...