I. The spirits of the forest,That to the winds give voice–I lie the livelong April dayAnd wonder what it is they sayThat makes the leaves rejoice. The spirits of the forest,That breathe in bud and bloom–I walk within the black-haw brakeAnd wonder how it is they makeThe bubbles of perfume. The spirits of the forest,That […]

Unto the soul’s companionshipOf things that only seem to be,Earth points with magic fingertipAnd bids thee seeHow Fancy keeps thee company. For oft at dawn hast not beheldA spirit of prismatic hueBlow wide the buds, which night has swelled?And stain them throughWith heav’n’s ethereal gold and blue? While at her side another wentWith gleams of […]

Here in the golden darknessAnd green night of the woods,A flitting form I follow,A shadow that eludes–Or is it but the phantomOf former forest moods? The phantom of some fancyI knew when I was young,And in my dreaming boyhood,The wildwood flow’rs among,Young face to face with FaerySpoke in no unknown tongue. Blue were her eyes, […]

Nevermore at doorways that are barkenShall the madcap wind knock and the noonlight;Nor the circle, which thou once didst darken,Shine with footsteps of the neighboring moonlight,Visitors for whom thou oft didst hearken. Nevermore, gallooned with cloudy laces,Shall the morning, like a fair freebooter,Make thy leaves his richest treasure-places;Nor the sunset, like a royal suitor,Clothe thy […]

I. I hear a song the wet leaves lispWhen Morn comes down the woodland way;And misty as a thistle-wispHer gown gleams windy gray;A song, that seems to say,“Awake! ’tis day!” I hear a sigh, when Day sits downBeside the sunlight-lulled lagoon;While on her glistening hair and gownThe rose of rest is strewn;A sigh, that seems […]

I. Not till the wildman wind is shrill,Howling upon the hillIn every wolfish tree, whose boisterous boughs,Like desperate arms, gesture and beat the night,And down huge clouds, in chasms of stormy whiteThe frightened moon hurries above the house,Shall I lie down; and, deep,–Letting the mad wind keepIts shouting revel round me,–fall asleep. II. Not till […]

Not as the eye hath seen, shall we beholdRomance and beauty, when we’ve passed away;That robed the dull facts of the intimate dayIn life’s wild raiment of unusual gold:Not as the ear hath heard, shall we be told,Hereafter, myth and legend once that layWarm at the heart of Nature, clothing clayIn attribute of no material […]

First came the rain, loud, with sonorous lips;A pursuivant who heralded a prince:And dawn put on a livery of tints,And dusk bound gold about her hair and hips:And, all in silver mail, then sunlight came,A knight, who bade the winter let him pass,And freed imprisoned beauty, naked asThe Court of Love, in all her wildflower […]

Yes, there are some who may look on theseEssential peoples of the earth and air–That have the stars and flowers in their care–And all their soul-suggestive secrecies:Heart-intimates and comrades of the trees,Who from them learn, what no known schools declare,God’s knowledge; and from winds, that discourse there,God’s gospel of diviner mysteries:To whom the waters shall […]

Calling, the heron flies athwart the blueThat sleeps above it; reach on rocky reachOf water sings by sycamore and beech,In whose warm shade bloom lilies not a few.It is a page whereon the sun and dewScrawl sparkling words in dawn’s delicious speech;A laboratory where the wood-winds teach,Dissect each scent and analyze each hue.Not otherwise than […]

Sad o’er the hills the poppy sunset died.Slow as a fungus breaking through the crustsOf forest leaves, the waning half-moon thrusts,Through gray-brown clouds, one milky silver side;In her vague light the dogwoods, vale-descried,Seem nervous torches flourished by the gusts;The apple-orchards seem the restless dustsOf wind-thinned mists upon the hills they hide.It is a night of […]

How does the Autumn in her mind concludeThe tragic masque her frosty pencil writes,Broad on the pages of the days and nights,In burning lines of orchard, wold, and wood?What lonelier forms–that at the year’s door stoodAt spectral wait–with wildly wasted lightsShall enter? and with melancholy ritesInaugurate their sadder sisterhood?–Sorrow, who lifts a signal hand, and […]

Dark in the west the sunset’s somber wrackUnrolled vast walls the rams of war had split,Along whose battlements the battle litTempestuous beacons; and, with gates hurled back,A mighty city, red with ruin and sack,Through burning breaches, crumbling bit by bit,Showed where the God of Slaughter seemed to sitWith conflagration glaring at each crack.Who knows? perhaps […]

Ten-hundred deep the drifted daisies breakHere at the hill’s foot; on its top, the wheatHangs meagre-bearded; and, in vague retreat,The wisp-like blooms of the moth-mulleins shake.And where the wild-pink drops a crimson flake,And morning-glories, like young lips, make sweetThe shaded hush, low in the honeyed heat,The wild-bees hum; as if afraid to wakeOne sleeping there; […]

There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines,–Where in the valley foams a water-fall,—Is glimpsed a ruined mill’s remaining wall;Here, by the road, the oxeye daisy minesHot brass and bronze; the trumpet-trailer shinesRed as the plumage of the cardinal.Faint from the forest comes the rain-crow’s callWhere dusty Summer dreams among the pines.This is the spot […]

Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose,A face of icy fire, o’er the hills;With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills,And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows:Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goesTo her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fearsFix demon eyes behind each bush she nears;Stops, yet must […]

The frail eidolons of all blossoms Spring,Year after year, about the forest tossed,The magic touch of the enchanter, Frost,Back from the Heaven of the Flow’rs doth bring;Each branch and bush in silence visitingWith phantom beauty of its blooms long lost:Each dead weed bends, white-haunted of its ghost,Each dead flower stands ghostly with blossoming.This is the […]

I. “I belt the morn with ribboned mist;With baldricked blue I gird the noon,And dusk with purple, crimson-kissed,White-buckled with the hunter’s moon. “These follow me,” the season says:“Mine is the frost-pale hand that packsTheir scrips, and speeds them on their ways,With gipsy gold that weighs their backs.” II. A daybreak horn the Autumn blows,As with […]

I hear the hoofs of horsesGalloping over the hill,Galloping on and galloping on,When all the night is shrillWith wind and rain that beats the pane–And my soul with awe is still. For every dripping windowTheir headlong rush makes bound,Galloping up, and galloping by,Then back again and around,Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs,And the […]