Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder? I see not the grace that I used to see In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or In the boughs of the willow tree....
Through foulest fogs of my own sluggish soul, Through midnight glooms of all the wide world's guilt, Through sulphurous cannon-clouds that surge and roll Above the steam of blood in anger spilt;...
Out of all the reek and turmoil Of the dreadful battle-plain, Came a voice insistent, calling, Calling, calling, but in vain;-- "Through Me only Shall the world have peace again." ...
Where do you go when you go to sleep, Little Boy! Little Boy! where? 'Way - 'way in where's Little Bo-Peep, And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep A-wandering 'way in there; - in there -...
An artist toiled over his pictures; He laboured by night and by day, He struggled for glory and honour But the world, it had nothing to say. His walls were ablaze with the splendours...
An artist toiled over his pictures; He labored by night and by day. He struggled for glory and honor, But the world, it had nothing to say. His walls were ablaze with the splendors...
The angel opened the door A little way, And she vanished, as melts a star, Into the day, And, for just a second's space, Ere the bar he drew, The pitying angel paused, And we looked through....
As I ride, as I ride, With a full heart for my guide, So its tide rocks my side, As I ride, as I ride, That, as I were double-eyed, He, in whom our Tribes confide,...
As I came through the Valley of Despair, As I came through the valley, on my sight, More awful than the darkness of the night, Shone glimpses of a Past that had been fair,...
Unknown to you, I walk the cheerless shore. The cutting blast, the hurl of biting brine May freeze, and still, and bind the waves at war, Ere you will ever know, O! Heart of mine,...
Stopped in the straight when the race was his own Look at him cutting it'cur to the bone! Ask ere the youngster be rated and chidden What did he carry and how was he ridden?...
Tossed on the glittering air they soar and skim, Whose voices make the emptiness of light A windy palace. Quavering from the brim Of dawn, and bold with song at edge of night,...
Some poets sing o' gipsy queens, An some o' ladies fine; Aw'll sing a song o' other scenes, - A humbler muse is mine. Jewels, an' gold, an silken frills, Are things too heigh for me;...
Sal Sanguine wor a bonny lass, Ov that yo may be sewer; Shoo had her trubbles tho', alas! An th' biggest wor her yure. Noa lass shoo knew as mich could spooart, But oft shoo'd heeard it sed,...
There will be thunder then. Remember me. Say ' She asked for storms.' The entire world will turn the colour of crimson stone, and your heart, as then, will turn to fire. ...