All the candles are passing out, one by one. They have evaporated their brightness, overpowered limpid cracks in their own flames, seized the outpouring air with hesitant breath to brave...
Men of the High North, the wild sky is blazing; Islands of opal float on silver seas; Swift splendors kindle, barbaric, amazing; Pale ports of amber, golden argosies....
Many the songs of the brave boys sent Over The Top in the battle's thunder; But mine is the song of the men who went Over the top of the waves - and under.
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight? Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows, Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish, Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?...
At the time when the stars are grey, And the gold of the molten moon Fades, and the twilight is thinned, And the sun leaps up, and the wind, A light rose, not of the day, A stronger light than of noon....
Such prayers last year were put up for thy sake; What shall this year do that hath lived to see The piteous and unpitied end of thee? What moan, what cry, what clamour shall it make,...
Now lonely is the wood: No flower now lingers, none! The virgin sisterhood Of roses, all are gone; Now Autumn sheds her latest leaf; And in my heart is grief.
What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray, Leaving all that here can win us; What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away?...
What's riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock Would nourish his whim. Live he or die...
In sullen Humour one Day Jove Sent Hermes down to Ida's Grove, Commanding Cupid to deliver His Store of Darts, his total Quiver; That Hermes shou'd the Weapons break, Or throw 'em into Lethe's Lake....
Along an avenue of almond-trees Came three girls chattering of their sweethearts three. And lo! Mercutio, with Byronic ease, Out of his philosophic eye cast all A mere flowered twig of thought, whereat -...
God hath two wings which He doth ever move; The one is mercy, and the next is love: Under the first the sinners ever trust; And with the last He still directs the just.
Now Merdle this day having toss'd with his horns The bears that were pulling so hard at the stocks, And gored every bull that was treading his corns, Had lined all his pockets with "plenty of rocks,"...
It was a shady nook that I had found Deep in the greenwood. A delicious stream Ran softly by it on a bed of grass, And to the border leant a sloping bank Of moss as delicate as Tempe e'er...
Dry light reverberates, colour withdrawing Into a sky so white, sight cannot follow it. While in the shadows cast, rich hues, intenser Far than in light spaces, offer me gladness....