| PAGE |
Aye, down the years, behold, he rides. |
Percy Adams Hutchison | 54 |
Because on the branch that is tapping my pane. |
Arthur Guiterman | 7 |
Did you choose the journey, friend? |
Ruth Sterry | 62 |
Distant as a dream’s flight. |
John G. Neihardt | 17 |
Eternal in the brooding of the old Norwegian spruces. |
Ruth Guthrie Harding | 4 |
Ever as sinks the day on sea or land. |
George Sterling | 52 |
Face in the tomb, that lies so still. |
Richard Le Gallienne | 22 |
For the sake of a weathered gray city set high on a hill. |
Amelia J. Burr | 25 |
God meant me to be hungry. |
Mildred Howells | 8 |
Hark ye! Hush ye! Margot’s dead. |
Ruth Comfort Mitchell | 50 |
Hark you such sound as quivers? Kings will hear. |
Mahlon Leonard Fisher | 61 |
How an image of paint and wood. |
Agnes Lee | 12 |
I know a vale where I would go one day. |
Bliss Carman | 24 |
I saw her in a Broadway car. |
Sara Teasdale | 19 |
I think that I shall never see. |
Joyce Kilmer | 7 |
I thought I had forgotten you. |
Ethel M. Hewitt | 21 |
I thought my heart would break. |
Charles Hanson Towne | 22 |
I went to the place where my youth took birth. |
Willard Huntington Wright | 18 |
If I am slow forgetting. |
Margaret Lee Ashley | 3 |
In every line a supple beauty. |
Willa Sibert Cather | 46 |
It’s little that I’d care for the glories of Ireland. |
Edward J. O’Brien | 16 |
Lest I learn, with clearer sight. |
Witter Bynner | 18 |
Lo—to the battle-ground of Life. |
Louis Untermeyer | 9 |
Love you not the tall trees spreading wide their branches. |
Tertius van Dyke | 8 |
May is building her house. With apple blooms. |
Richard Le Gallienne | 3 |
Midnight, and in the darkness not a sound. |
Sara Teasdale | 13 |
O blest Imagination. |
George Edward Woodberry | 28 |
Oh, joy that burns in Denver tavern. |
Francis Hill | 49 |
Old Hezekiah leaned hard on his hoe. |
Percy MacKaye | 30 |
One whom I loved and never can forget. |
Hermann Hagedorn | 23 |
Outside hove Shasta, snowy height on height. |
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