“You did not hear them coming. You hardly heard them go. The grass bent down, sprang up again. They passed like cloud shadows downhill ... the boys of summer,...
Her feelings were in constant melancholy. When that Thursday had accumulated into a sunset, she was unmoved. The dwindling clouds did not produce in...
Of the firm landscapeMen see muchBut hold little for sure
What they learn is grownBefore workGathers them into a field
Each one admiresA settlingIn place,...
Heaven must beThat old dreamOf my garden, but lasting
When I wake, the leavesSeem to shred In the wind like manuscripts
The pollinated JunglelandBecomes a sodden...