That hour-glass which there you see With water fill'd, sirs, credit me, The humour was, as I have read, But lovers' tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pass...
Sooner or late, in earnest or in jest, (But the stakes are no jest) Ithuriel's Hour Will spring on us, for the first time, the test Of our sole unbacked competence and power...
As one who finds his house no longer fit, Too narrow for his needs, in nothing right, Wanting in every homelike requisite, Devoid of beauty, barren of delight,...
I let myself in at the kitchen door. "It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive me Not answering your knock. I can no more Let people in than I can keep them out....
I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud, I build it bright to see,...
I built a little House of Dreams, And fenced it all about, But still I heard the Wind of Truth That roared without. I laid a fire of Memories And sat before the glow,...
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east: And lights wink out through the windows, one by one. A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night....
One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:...
One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand, With wave upon slowly shattering wave, Turned to the city of towers as evening fell; And slowly walked by the darkening road toward it;...
Up high black walls, up sombre terraces, Clinging like luminous birds to the sides of cliffs, The yellow lights went climbing towards the sky. From high black walls, gleaming vaguely with rain,...
The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain,...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the huddled towers, Over a somnolent whisper of loves and hates,...
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers The golden lights go out . . . The yellow windows darken, the shades are drawn, In thousands of rooms we sleep, we await the dawn,...
The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city, Over the pale grey tumbled towers, And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls. Along damp sinuous streets it crawls,...
The round red sun heaves darkly out of the sea. The walls and towers are warmed and gleam. Sounds go drowsily up from streets and wharves. The city stirs like one that is half in dream. ...
More towers must yet be built, more towers destroyed, Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes . . ....