Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the world's one crime its babes grow dull, Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed....
Before my window, in days of winter hoar Huddled a mournful wood: Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore, In stony sleep they stood: But you, unhappy elm, the angry west...
As I stroll by the stream where you stray, A beam is reflected afar, Which seems, on the waters, a ray - The ray from a luminous star. What is it that sweetens my sight,...
The chime of the bells, and the church clock striking eight Solemnly and distinctly cries down the babel of children still playing in the hay. The church draws nearer upon us, gentle and great...
Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I'm thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog; And, like a shining beacon Above the picture grim, I see the London 'Bobby,'...
"One drop of ruddy human blood puts more life into the veins of a poem than all the delusive 'aurum potabile' that can be distilled out of the choicest library."--Lowell.
'Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the land, 'This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.' In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon....
When the spinning-room was here Came Three Damsels, clothed in white, With their spindles every night; One and Two and three fair Maidens, Spinning to a pulsing cadence, Singing songs of Elfin-Mere;...
i(Man) In a cleft that's christened Alt Under broken stone I halt At the bottom of a pit That broad noon has never lit, And shout a secret to the stone. All that I have said and done,...
He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town, In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt. He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown; He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt....
On my wall hangs a Japanese carving, The mask of an evil demon, decorated with gold lacquer. Sympathetically I observe The swollen veins of the forehead, indicating What a strain it is to be evil.
Brothers from far-away lands, Sons of the fathers of fame, Here are our hearts and our hands This is our song of acclaim. Lords from magnificent zones, Shores of superlative sway,...