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Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.

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O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fallFrightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed.

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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through t...more

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What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilde...more