Works

Sweet are thy strains, celestial Bard;
And oft, in childhood's years,
I've read them o'er and o'er again,
With floods of silent tears.

The language of my inmost heart,
I traced in every line;...

I'll write, because I'll give
You critics means to live;
For should I not supply
The cause, th' effect would die.

"I wouldn't try a crossing in weather like this," warned the old man. "It's a bad time of year, what with the wind and all. Worse still, the lake water is lethal by November. That means if you capsize it will be the chill that ...

My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd!
The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.

Where are the hapless shipmen? - disappeared,
Gone down, where witness none, save Night, hath been,
Ye deep, deep waves, of kneeling mothers feared,
What dismal tales know ye of things unseen?...

I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold;
Thou kill'st with heat, and I strike dead with cold.
Let's try of us who shall the first expire;
Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire:...

Maydens, why spare ye?
Or whether not dare ye
Correct the blind Shooter?
Because wanton VENVS,
So oft that doth paine vs,
Is her Sonnes Tutor.

Now in the Spring,
He proueth his Wing,...

1.

In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp
A friend, whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.


2.
...

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;...

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are;
No shadows great appear;...

Where the sinister sun of the Syrians beat
On the brittle, bright stubble,
And the camels fell back from the swords of the heat,
Came Saul, with a fire in the soles of his feet,
And a forehead of trouble....

Step me now a bridal measure,
Work give way to love and leisure,
Hearts be free and hearts be gay--
Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.

Diagnosis, cease your squalling--...

Dear Mr. Leno,
It is now many happy weeks
Since I had the pleasure of addressing you.
On the last occasion, you will remember,
You were fresh from Sandringham,
With a medal and sundry excellent stories...

King, that hast reign'd six hundred years, and grown
In power, and ever growest, since thine own
Fair Florence honouring thy nativity,
Thy Florence now the crown of Italy,...

I love this age of energy and force,
Expectantly I greet each pregnant hour;
Emerging from the all-creative source,
Supreme with promise, imminent with power.
The strident whistle and the clanging bell,...

I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide
The resurrection of departed pride.
Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep,
Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep--...

To-day, dearest! is ours;
Why should Love carelessly lose it?
This life shines or lowers
Just as we, weak mortals, use it.
'Tis time enough, when its flowers decay,
To think of the thorns of Sorrow...

She sitteth still who used to dance,
She weepeth sore and more and more -
Let us sit with thee weeping sore,
O fair France!

She trembleth as the days advance
Who used to be so light of heart: -...

Brief while they last,
Long when they are gone;
They catch from the past
A light to still live on.

Brief! yet I ween
A day may be an age,
The poet's pen may screen...

"Arise, depart, for this is not your rest."
Oh, burden of all burdens, - still to arise
And still depart, nor rest in any wise!
Rolling, still rolling thus to east from west,...