My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.

The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!

There is creation in the eye.

That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.

Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.