As watchers couched beneath a Bantine oak, Hearing the dawn-wind stir, Know that the present strength of night is broke Though no dawn threaten her Till dawn's appointed hour, so Virgil died,...
Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears:--to hail the May New blooming blossoms 'neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away....
He crouches, and buries his face on his knees, And hides in the dark of his hair; For he cannot look up to the storm-smitten trees, Or think of the loneliness there Of the loss and the loneliness there....
Though o'er the darksome northern hill Old ambush'd winter frowning flies, And faintly drifts his threatenings still In snowy sweet and blackening skies; Yet here the willow leaning lies...
In distant countries have I been, And yet I have not often seen A healthy man, a man full grown, Weep in the public roads, alone. But such a one, on English ground,...
There were thirty million English who talked of England's might, There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night. They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;...
Travellers in Mexico have found the form of a serpent invariably pictured over the doorways of the Indian Temples, and on the interior walls, the impression of a red hand. ...
Lay me in yon place, lad, The gloamin's thick wi' nicht; I canna' see yer face, lad, For my een's no richt, But it's owre late for leein', An' I ken fine I'm deein', Like an auld craw fleein'...
"I am playing my oldest tunes," declared she, "All the old tunes I know, - Those I learnt ever so long ago." - Why she should think just then she'd play them Silence cloaks like snow. ...
The bugler sent a call of high romance, "Lights out! Lights out!" to the deserted square. On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer, "God, if it's this for me next time in France ......
I sometimes sit beneath a tree And read my own sweet songs; Though naught they may to others be, Each humble line prolongs A tone that might have passed away But for that scarce remembered lay. ...
Turn the light down, nurse, and leave me, while I hold my last review, For the Bush is slipping from me, and the town is going too: Draw the blinds, the streets are lighted, and I hear the tramp of feet,...
The King has called for priest and cup, The King has taken spur and blade To dub True Thomas a belted knight, And all for the sake o' the songs he made. ...
I. I said, Then, dearest, since 'tis so, Since now at length my fate I know, Since nothing all my love avails, Since all, my life seemed meant for, fails, Since this was written and needs must be...
The Earth is so vast, Spacious, lovely! And my prison is Dark and stinking. A bird in the sky Soars to the clouds. On the floor I lie, My hands are chained. A flower grows in freedom....