Within the grave green twilight of the wood,
Inscrutable, immutable, apart,
Hearkening the brook, whose song she understood,
The secret birch-tree kept her silver smile,
Strange as the peace that gleams at sorrow’s heart.
THE COMMON STREET
The common street climbed up against the sky,
Gray meeting gray; and wearily to and fro
I saw the patient, common people go,