«I love May’s first storms: / chuckling, sporting spring / grumbles in mock anger; / young thunder claps, a spatter of rain and flying dust / and wet pearls hanging / threaded by sun-gold; / a speedy current scampers from the hills. Such a commotion in the woods! / Noises cartwheel ...»
«I love spring storms — the rain, the lightning — / When in the early weeks of May / Young thunder, playing and delighting, / Resounds and shatters in blue sky. Electric passion bursts and shimmers, / Rain sprinkles, sparkling dust flies on, / In air the pearl strands shine and gl...»
«There is a wistful charm, a tenderness, / Mysterious and soft, in autumn’s even: / The trees in weird and brilliant garments dress, / The gory leaves to whispered talk are given; / Above the sad and orphaned earth the skies / Lie veiled and bleak, the sun’s departure mourning, / And ...»
«In the brightness of autumn evenings / here is a touching, mysterious charm: / an ominous glitter, motley trees, / a light, languorous rustle of scarlet leaves, / a hazy, quiet blueness / across the sadly orphaned world / and, presaging gathering storms, / at times a gusty snap ...»