Acquainted With the Night The Armful The Black Cottage Blue-Butterfly Day A Boundless Moment The Code The Death of the Hired Man Departmental The Door in the Dark A Dream Pang Dust of Snow Evening in a Sugar Orchard Fire and Ice Flower-Gathering Fragmentary Blue The Generations of Men Ghost House In Hardwood Groves In Neglect Into My Own The Kitchen Chimney Love and a Question Mending Wall The Mountain My Butterfly My November Guest Nothing Gold Can Stay October The Onset Out, Out -- The Oven Bird Pan with Us A Patch of Old Snow A Peck of Gold A Prayer in Spring Reluctance Revelation The Road Not Taken Sand Dunes Spring Pools Stars Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening The Thatch To E.T. The Trial by Existence The Tuft of Flowers The Vanishing Red The Vantage Point A Winter Eden The Wood-Pile
I dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar walls, And a cellar in which the daylight falls, And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow. O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield The woods come back to the mowing field; The orchard tree has grown one copse Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops; The footpath down to the well is healed. I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart On that disused and forgotten road That has no dust-bath now for the toad. Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; The whippoorwill is coming to shout And hush and cluck and flutter about: I hear him begin far enough away Full many a time to say his say Before he arrives to say it out. It is under the small, dim, summer star. I know not who these mute folk are Who share the unlit place with me-- Those stones out under the low-limbed tree Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar. They are tireless folk, but slow and sad, Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,-- With none among them that ever sings, And yet, in view of how many things, As sweet companions as might be had.