«When prying idly into Nature / I am particularly fond / Of watching the arrow of a swallow / Over the sunset of a pond. See — there it goes, and skims, and glances: / The alien element, I fear, / Roused from its glassy sleep might capture / Black lightning quivering so near. There ...»
«Where dawn is sprinkling her red waters on / The cabbages and beets, / A little nuzzling maple reaches up / To suck its dam's green teats.»
«How still it is among the junipers! / Autumn — a bay mare — cleans her mane of burrs. Her hoofs' blue clatter sounds above the bank / Of the still river where the reeds are rank. The monkish wind steps gingerly, his tread / Kneads the heaped leaves with which the road is spread, And at...»
«In the clear cold the dales grow blue and tremble; / The iron hoofs beat sharply, knock on knock. / The faded grasses in wide skirts assemble / Flung copper where the wind-blown willows rock, From empty glens, a slender arch ascending, / Fog curls upon the air and mosswise grows, / While ...»