Why

As Ann came in one summer's day, She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house, It seemed a house of sleep.

There is wind where the rose was, Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o'er the steep Grey skies where the lark was. Nought warm where your hand was

That one, alone, Who's dared and To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care,

Come, Death, I'd have a word with thee; And thou, poor Innocency;

Speak not — whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower,

Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to sprawl In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake,

Hi! Handsome hunting man, Fire your little gun, Bang!

All winter through I bow my headbeneath the driving rain; the North Wind powders me with snowand blows me black again; at midnight 'neath a maze of starsI flame with glittering rime, and stand above the stubble, stiffas mail at…