PART I

Into My Own
     The youth is persuaded that he will be rather more than less himself for having forsworn the world. 

Ghost House
     He is happy in society of his choosing. 

My November Guest
     He is in love with being misunderstood. 

Love and a Question
     He is in doubt whether to admit real trouble to a place beside the hearth with love. 

A Late Walk
     He courts the autumnal mood. 

Stars
     There is no oversight of human affairs. 

Storm Fear
     He is afraid of his own isolation. 

Wind and Window Flower
     Out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love. 

To the Thawing Wind
     He calls on change through the violence of the elements. 

A Prayer in Spring
     He discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking thoughts;

Flower-gathering
     nor yet in any spur it may be to ambition. 

Rose Pogonias
     He is no dissenter from the ritualism of nature; 

Asking for Roses
     nor from the ritualism of youth which is make-believe. 

Waiting—Afield at Dusk
     He arrives at the turn of the year. 

In a Vale
     Out of old longings he fashions a story. 

A Dream Pang
     He is shown by a dream how really well it is with him. 

In Neglect
     He is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach. 

The Vantage Point
     And again scornful, but there is no one hurt. 

Mowing
     He takes up life simply with the small tasks. 

Going for Water

PART II

Revelation
     He resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there is no help else;

The Trial by Existence
     and to know definitely what he thinks about the soul;

In Equal Sacrifice
     about love; 

The Tuft of Flowers
     about fellowship; 

Spoils of the Dead
     about death; 

Pan with Us
     about art (his own);

The Demiurge's Laugh
     about science.

PART III

Now Close the Windows
     It is time to make an end of speaking.

A Line-storm Song
     It is the autumnal mood with a difference.

October
     He sees days slipping from him that were the best for what they were.

My Butterfly
     There are things that can never be the same. 

Reluctance