STRANGER! the MAN OF NATURE lies not here: Enshrin'd far distant by his [1] rival's side His relics rest, there by the giddy throng With blind idolatry alike revered! Wiselier directed have thy pilgrim feet...
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...
God bless our Fathers' Land! Keep her in heart and hand One with our own! From all her foes defend, Be her brave People's Friend, On all her realms descend, Protect her Throne! ...
In the depths of a Forest secluded and wild, The night voices whisper in passionate numbers; And I'm leaning again, as I did when a child, O'er the grave where my father so quietly slumbers. ...
In the ember days of my last free summer, here I lie, outside myself, watching the gross body eating a poor curry: satisfied at what I have done, scared of what I have to do in my last free winter.
Oh, here in the shop the machines roar so wildly, That oft, unaware that I am, or have been, I sink and am lost in the terrible tumult; And void is my soul... I am but a machine....
The fire upon the hearth is low, And there is stillness everywhere, While like winged spirits, here and there, The firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep,...
My dear wife sits beside the fire With folded hands and dreaming eyes, Watching the restless flames aspire, And rapt in thralling memories. I mark the fitful firelight fling...
List to the forest-voice murmuring low: All that it saw when alone with its laughter, All that it suffered in times that came after, Mournful it tells, that the wind may know.
One well might deem, among these miles of woods, Such were the Forests of the Holy Grail, Broceliand and Dean; where, clothed in mail, The Knights of Arthur rode, and all the broods...
What sighed the Forest to the nest? "So young, so old, Love, Help me to mold This life I hold." What said the bird, That harked and heard? "Below, above, Love, love is best....
Since risen from ocean, ocean to defy, Appeared the crag of Ailsa, ne'er did morn With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high:...
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,...
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.
I traced the Circus whose gray stones incline Where Rome and dim Etruria interjoin, Till came a child who showed an ancient coin That bore the image of a Constantine. ...