Ring down the curtain, say the play is done,
And the last petals of the poppy shed!
I do not want to live when I am old,
I have no use for things I cannot love;
And when the day that I am talking of
(Which God forfend!) is come, it will be cold.
But if there is another place than this,
Where all the men will greet me as ‘Old Man,’
And all the women wrap me in a smile,
Where money is more useless than a kiss,
And good wine is not put beneath the ban,
I will go there and stay a little while.
HERE all night on the dunesIn the rocking wind we sleep;Watched by the sentry stars,Lulled by the drone of the deep.Till hark, in the chill of the dawnA field lark wakes and cries,And over the floor of the seaWe watch the round sun rise.The world is washed once moreIn a tide of purple and gold,And…
Like a vivid day-dreamIn the azure noon,While one haunting figureStrays through every scene,Like the soul of beautyThrough her lost demesne.Gardens full of rosesAnd peonies a-blowIn the dewy morning,Row on stately row,Spreading their gay patterns,Crimson, pied and cream,Like some gorgeous frescoOr an Eastern dream.Nets of waving sunlightFalling through the trees;Fields of gold-white daisiesRippling in the breeze;Lazy…
And heard the roaming forest windStir in the paling autumn-tide.I watched her earth-brown eyes grow gladBecause the round day was so fair;While memories of reluctant nightLurked in the blue dusk of her hair.Outside, a yellow maple tree,Shifting upon the silvery blueWith tiny multitudinous sound,Rustled to let the sunlight through.The livelong day the elvish leavesDanced with…
A high occasion. Our New England wearsAll her unrivalled beauty as of old;And June, with scent of bayberry and roseAnd song of orioles— as she only comesBy Massachusetts Bay —is here once more,Companioning our fête of fellowship.The open trails, South, West, and North, lead backFrom populous cities or from lonely plains,Ranch, pulpit, office, factory, desk,…
Shall we leave the floor unsweptAnd the hearth acold?Here the hill-wind in the dusk,Wandering to and fro,Moves the moonflowers, like a ghostOf the long ago.Here from every doorway looksA remembered face,Every sill and panel wearsA familiar grace.Let the windows smile againTo the morning light,And the door stand open wideWhen the moon is bright.Let the breeze…
A vagrant’s morning wide and blue,In early fall, when the wind walks too;A shadowy highway cool and brown,Alluring up and enticing downFrom rippled water to dappled swamp,From purple glory to scarlet pomp;The outward eye, the quiet will,And the striding heart from hill to hill;The tempter apple over the fence;The cobweb bloom on the yellow quince;The…
