• Her steps fall sweet as summer rain...
  • With lathe of viewless hyaline...
  • Fair as the light on fire-tipt hills...
  • Dimly beheld, thou excellent...
  • Never before has my ear heard...
  • All day an ashen light serene...
  • Sure in this realm of Sense and Time...
  • I keep one picture in my heart...
  • This golden-browed September land...
  • I feel the season's dreamy call...
  • Fresh sprig of greenest southernwood...
  • A bird on sudden, as I write...
  • Sunshine, O soul, is not a mood —...
  • As on a hill-top near the sun...
  • Love bows herself in holy prayer...
  • Man's highest word, as God's above...
  • The spirit firm and swelling soul...
  • The ideal is a lifting sky...
  • The flecks of gold that glorify...
  • The “trees of God,” the prophet said...
  • Across the hills the cattle call...
  • If mighty angels fair and tall...
  • There are no solitudes to view...
  • Calm soul, unkindled by the sight...
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