Woodnotes I, by Ralph Waldo Emerson
1 When the pine tosses its cones
To the song ...
Woodpecker Poems
Ghost House, by Robert Frost
I DWELL in a lonely house I know
That vanishe...
Hermitage Thoughts, by Julie Rutherford
Woodpecker tapping
Surprises me
Out of solit...
The Cremona Violin, by Amy Lowell
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut t...
A Woman's Apology, by Alfred Austin
In the green darkness of a summer wood,
Where...
Homes, by Arthur Guiterman
The Cormorant builds on a ledge by the sea;
T...
A Summer Day, by Edward Robeson Taylor
What treasure trove the task-free summer hours
...
The Spring, by Eliza Allen Starr
1866. SPRING PARK. Through the twisted roots o...
Tiger Hunting in India with Elephants, by Isaac McLellan
We cross'd a brawling mountain torrent, far
F...
Premonition, by Louise Driscoll
The crystal shiver of an icicle
That falls fro...
Signs of Rain, by Sara Coleridge
THE Thrush has been silent for many a long day,...