Front matter

Knowledge, we are not foes. Long hast thou toiled with me; But the world with a great wind blows, Crying, and not of thee!

Dewfall, moonrise, high sweet clover, Chimney swifts at their twilight play; Quail call, owl hoot, moth a-hover, Midnight pale at the step of day. Star wane, cobweb, brown-plumed bracken; Morning laughs, with the frost in flower; Duck flight, hound cry; wild grapes blacken. Day leaps up at the amber hour. Sun dark, snowcloud, eaves ice cumbered, Gray sand piled on a carmine West; Faint wing, flake dance; winds unnumbered Swing the cradles where leaf-buds rest. Wide light, bough flush, gold-fringed meadows, Berries red in the rippled grass; Stream song, nest note, dream deep shadows Drawn back slowly for noon to pass.