Something inspires the only cow of late

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

Sound of the Trees, The

Spoils of the Dead

Star in a Stone-Boat, A

Stars

Storm Fear

Telephone, The

The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard

The city had withdrawn into itself

The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square

The house had gone to bring again

The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift,

The mountain held the town as in a shadow

The sound of the closing outside door was all

The three stood listening to a fresh access

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood

The way a crow

The well was dry beside the door,

There is a singer everyone has heard,

There overtook me and drew me in

There was never a sound beside the wood but one,

There were three in the meadow by the brook

There’s a patch of old snow in a corner

They leave us so to the way we took,

They sent him back to her. The letter came

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,

This saying good-by on the edge of the dark

Thus of old the Douglas did

Time to Talk, A

To drive Paul out of any lumber camp

To E. T.

To the Thawing Wind

To think to know the country and not know

Trial by Existence, The

Tuft of Flowers, The

Two fairies it was

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

Two Witches

Valley’s Singing Day, The

Vanishing Red, The

Vantage Point, The

Waiting

We chanced in passing by that afternoon

We make ourselves a place apart

What things for dream there are when spectre-like,

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?

When a friend calls to me from the road

When I go up through the mowing field,

When I see birches bend to left and right

“When I was just as far as I could walk

When I was young, we dwelt in a vale

When the wind works against us in the dark,

Wild Grapes

“Willis, I didn’t want you here today:

Wind and Window Flower

Wood-Pile, The

You come to fetch me from my work to-night

“You ought to have seen what I saw on my way

You were forever finding some new play