Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease Us Out

Give Me Books, French Wine, Fruit, Fine Weather And A Little Music Played Out Of Doors By Somebody I Do Not Know.

Young Playmates Of The Rose And Daffodil, Be Careful Ere Ye Enter In, To Fill Your Baskets High With Fennel Green, And Balm, And Golden Pines Savory Latter-mint, And Columbines.

The Poetry Of The Earth Is Never Dead.

Sudden A Thought Came Like A Full-blown Rose, Flushing His Brow.

I Will Clamber Through The Clouds And Exist.