TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES 1. P. 378–380, one of the poems (Renascence) was different in the two otherwise identical editions, so both sets of pages were included. See the second set below. 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 3. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. 5. Enclosed bold font in =equals=. =Renascence= fragment mentioned above And so beneath the weight lay I And suffered death, but could not die. Deep in the earth I rested now; Cool is its hand upon the brow And soft its breast beneath the head Of one who is so gladly dead. And all at once, and over all, The pitying rain began to fall; O God, I cried, give me new birth, And put me back upon the earth! Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd And let the heavy rain, down-poured In one big torrent, set me free, Washing my grave away from me! I ceased; and, through the breathless hush That answered me, the far-off rush Of herald wings came whispering Like music down the vibrant string Of my ascending prayer, and—crash! Before the wild wind’s whistling lash The startled storm-clouds reared on high And plunged in terror down the sky, And the big rain in one black wave Fell from the sky and struck my grave. I know not how such things can be I only know there came to me A fragrance such as never clings To aught save happy living things; A sound as of some joyous elf Singing sweet songs to please himself, And, through and over everything, A sense of glad awakening. The grass, a tip-toe at my ear, Whispering to me I could hear; I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips Brushed tenderly across my lips, Laid gently on my sealèd sight, And all at once the heavy night Fell from my eyes and I could see,— I lay and heard each pattering hoof Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof, And seemed to love the sound far more Than ever I had done before. For rain it hath a friendly sound To one who’s six feet underground; And scarce the friendly voice or face: A grave is such a quiet place.