Sometimes, when everything goes wrong: When days are short, and nights are long; When wash-day brings so dull a sky That not a single thing will dry. And when the kitchen chimney smokes,...
A man I praise that once in Tara's Hals Said to the woman on his knees, "Lie still. My hundredth year is at an end. I think That something is about to happen, I think That the adventure of old age begins....
Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brake Yon busy Little-ones rejoice that soon A poor old Dame will bless them for the boon: Great is their glee while flake they add to flake...
There's the same old coaching stable that was used by Cobb and Co., And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago; And the public-private parlour, where they serve the passing swell,...
There's the same old coaching stable that was used by Cobb and Co., And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago; And the public-private parlour, where they serve the passing swell,...
In that dark silent hour When the wind wants power, And in the black height The sky wants light, Stirless and black In utter lack, And not a sound Escapes from that untroubled round:-- ...
I arise in the silence of the dawn hour. And softly steal out to the garden Under the Favrile goblet of the dawning. And a wind moves out of the south-land, Like a film of silver,...
Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly, Or the drifting foam of a restless sea...
In the heart of June, love, You and I together, On from dawn till noon, love, Laughing with the weather; Blending both our souls, love, In the selfsame tune, Drinking all life holds, love,...
So at last a toll they'll levy For the passing fool who sings, Take the harp grown dull and heavy (With the dried blood on the strings) Let us sing, and sing right gaily, For the wreath is on our brow,...
A stone's throw out on either hand From that well-ordered road we tread, And all the world is wild and strange; Churel and ghoul and Djinn and sprite Shall bear us company to-night,...
Unto the house of prayer my spirit yearns, Unto the sources of her being turns, To where the sacred light of heaven burns, She struggles thitherward by day and night.
In these fair vales hath many a Tree At Wordsworth's suit been spared; And from the builder's hand this Stone, For some rude beauty of its own, Was rescued by the Bard:...
I lay in my bed and fiddled With a dreamland viol and bow, And the tunes flew back to my fingers I had melodied years ago. It was two or three in the morning When I fancy-fiddled so...
In those good days when we were young and wise, You spake to music, you with the thoughtful eyes, And God looked down from heaven, pleased to hear A young man's song arise so firm and clear....