There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
...
Wind of the dead men's feet,
Blow down the empty street
Of this old city by the sea
With news for me!
...
OVER the rim of a lacquered bowl,
Where a cold blue water-color stands
I see the wintry breakers roll
...
ONCE more in misted April
The world is growing green.
Along the winding river
The plumey willows lean.
...
The lover of child Marjory
Had one white hour of life brim full;
Now the old nurse, the rocking sea,
Hath him to lull.
...
NOW the stars have faded
In the purple chill,
Lo, the sun is kindling
On the eastern hill.
...
AH, Pierrot,
Where is thy Columbine?
What vandal could untwine
That gay rose-rope of thine,
...
When I was just a little boy,
Before I went to school,
I had a fleet of forty sail
...
NOW soon, ah, very soon, I know
The trumpets of the north will blow,
And the great winds will come to bring
The pale wild riders of the snow.
...
LORD, said a flying fish,
Below the foundations of storm
We feel the primal wish
...