Driue forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine, Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed; To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull Swaine To'ards the calme eu'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede,...
Seest thou not, in clearest days, Oft thick fogs cloud Heaven's rays? And that vapours which do breathe From the Earth's gross womb beneath, Seem unto us with black steams...
I have gathered these stories afar In the wind and the rain, In the land where the cattle-camps are, On the edge of the Plain. On the overland routes of the west, When the watches were long,...
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town, Across the meadows bare and brown, The windows of the wayside inn Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves...
Dear friends, left darkling in the long eclipse That veils the noonday, - you whose finger-tips A meaning in these ridgy leaves can find Where ours go stumbling, senseless, helpless, blind....
Primeval my love for the woman I love, O bride! O wife! more resistless, more enduring than I can tell, the thought of you! Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born,...
Princes and fav'rites are most dear, while they By giving and receiving hold the play; But the relation then of both grows poor, When these can ask, and kings can give no more.
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,...
So she became a bird, and bird-like danced On a long sloe-bough, treading the silver blossom With a bird's lovely feet; And shaken blossoms fell into the hands Of Sunlight. And he held them for a moment...
Grown old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard Your persevering, unexhausted bard; Damnation follows death in other men, But your damn'd poet lives and writes again....
So shipwreck'd passengers escape to land, So look they, when on the bare beach they stand, Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er, Expecting famine on a desert shore....
Great cry, and little wool - is now become The plague and proverb of the weaver's loom; No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp; Their pockets empty, and their stomachs sharp....
Love dark as death and fierce as fire on wing Sustains in sin the soul that feels it cling Like flame whose tongues are serpents: hope and fear Die when a love more dire than hate draws near,...
Light, as when dawn takes wing and smites the sea, Smote England when his day bade Marlowe be. No fire so keen had thrilled the clouds of time Since Dante's breath made Italy sublime....
The golden bells of fairyland, that ring Perpetual chime for childhood's flower-sweet spring, Sang soft memorial music in his ear Whose answering music shines about us here....
Of Prometheus, how undaunted On Olympus' shining bastions His audacious foot he planted, Myths are told and songs are chanted, Full of promptings and suggestions.