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Book: Lyrics of Earth (1895)

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  • With loitering step and quiet eye,
    Beneath the low November sky,
    56 lines
  • What would'st thou have for easement after grief,
    When the 
    69 lines
  • T-day the world is wide and fair
    With sunny fields of lucid air,
    40 lines
  • The full, clear moon uprose and spread
    Her cold, pale splendor o'er the sea;
    40 lines
  • For three whole days across the sky,
    In sullen packs that loomed and broke,
    42 lines
  • White are the far-off plains, and white
    The fading forests grow;
    36 lines
  • Mother, to whose valiant will
    Battling long ago,
    8 lines, 1 comment
  • Think not, oh master of the well-tilled field,
    This earth is only thine; for after thee,
    8 lines
  • It fell on a day I was happy,
    And the winds, the concave sky,
    40 lines
  • The sun looks over a little hill
    And floods the valley with gold--
    16 lines
  • March is slain; the keen winds fly;
    Nothing more is thine to do;
    23 lines
  • Now hath the summer reached her golden close,
    And, lost amid her corn-fields, bright of soul,
    72 lines
  • There is singing of birds in the deep wet woods,
    In the heart of the listening solitudes,
    16 lines
  • Now overhead,
    Where the rivulet loiters and stops,
    36 lines
  • Again the warm bare earth, the noon
    That hangs upon her healing scars,
    32 lines
  • Subtly conscious, all awake,
    Let us clear our eyes, and break
    236 lines
  • Once, long ago, before the gods
    Had left this earth, by stream and forest glade,
    72 lines
  • With a turn of his magical rod,
    That extended and suddenly shone,
    24 lines
  • Here when the cloudless April days begin,
    And the quaint crows flock thicker day by day,
    80 lines
  • On such a day the shrunken stream
    Spends its last water and runs dry;
    88 lines
  • Grief was my master yesternight;
    To-morrow I may grieve again;
    36 lines
  • With what doubting eyes, oh sparrow,
    Thou regardest me,
    8 lines
  • I passed through the gates of the city,
    The streets were strange and still,
    28 lines
  • No wind there is that either pipes or moans;
    The fields are cold and still; the sky
    36 lines
  • O doubts, dull passions, and base fears,
    That harassed and oppressed the day,
    8 lines
  • Along the narrow sandy height
    I watch them swiftly come and go,
    18 lines
  • Long, long ago, it seems, this summer morn
    That pale-browed April passed with pensive tread
    81 lines
  • From this windy bridge at rest,
    In some former curious hour,
    32 lines
  • To the distance! Ah, the distance!
    Blue and broad and dim!
    8 lines
  • The earth is the cup of the sun,
    That he filleth at morning with wine,
    20 lines
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