[Published in “A Masque of Poets” at the request of “H.H.,” the author’s fellow-townswoman and friend.]     Success is counted sweetest    By those who ne’er succeed.    To comprehend…

    It sounded as if the streets were running,    And then the streets stood still.    Eclipse was all we could see at the window,    And awe was all we…

    Summer for thee grant I may be    When summer days are flown!    Thy music still when whippoorwill    And oriole are done!     For thee to bloom, I’ll skip the…

    Some, too fragile for winter winds,    The thoughtful grave encloses, —    Tenderly tucking them in from frost    Before their feet are cold.     Never the treasures in her nest    The…

    So proud she was to die    It made us all ashamed    That what we cherished, so unknown    To her desire seemed.     So satisfied to go    Where none of us…

    A long, long sleep, a famous sleep    That makes no show for dawn    By stretch of limb or stir of lid, —    An independent one.     Was ever idleness…

    Sleep is supposed to be,    By souls of sanity,    The shutting of the eye.     Sleep is the station grand    Down which on either hand    The hosts of witness stand!…

    How happy is the little stone    That rambles in the road alone,    And does n’t care about careers,    And exigencies never fears;    Whose coat of elemental brown    A passing universe…

    Before I got my eye put out,    I liked as well to see    As other creatures that have eyes,    And know no other way.     But were it told…

It tossed and tossed, —    A little brig I knew, —    O’ertook by blast,    It spun and spun,    And groped delirious, for morn.     It slipped and slipped,    As one that…