Ireland is now our royal care, We lately fix'd our viceroy there. How near was she to be undone, Till pious love inspired her son! What cannot our vicegerent do, As poet and as patriot too?...
I, too, saw God through mud-- The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled. War brought more glory to their eyes than blood, And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child. ...
The poet in his lone yet genial hour Gives to his eyes a magnifying power: Or rather he emancipates his eyes From the black shapeless accidents of size - In unctuous cones of kindling coal,...
No more: the end is sudden and abrupt, Abrupt, as without preconceived design Was the beginning; yet the several Lays Have moved in order, to each other bound By a continuous and acknowledged tie...
I know a pool, whose crystalline repose Sleeps under walls of granite, whence the pine Leans looking at its image, line for line Repeated with the sumach and wild-rose...
'No, you can't count me in, boys; I'm off it, I'm jack of them practical jokes; They give neither pleasure nor profit, And the fellers that plays them are mokes. I've got sense, though I once was a duffer,...
Those were fine times, when I still Walked in silk socks and wore underpants, Sometimes had ten marks to spare, in order To hire a woman, bored in the day Night after night I sat in the coffeehouse....
A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west, Nor noticed night did soft descend Nor constellation burn,...
Thoughtful in youth, but not austere in age; Calm, but not cold, and cheerful though a sage; Too true to flatter and too kind to sneer, And only just when seemingly severe;...
She gave up beauty in her tender youth, Gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; She covered up her eyes lest they should gaze On vanity, and chose the bitter truth....
A face devoid of love or grace, A hateful, hard, successful face, A face with which a stone Would feel as thoroughly at ease As were they old acquaintances, -- First time together thrown.
All sweet and various things do lend themselves And blend and intermix in her rare soul, As chorded notes, which were untuneful else, Clasp each the other in a perfect whole. ...
She was not very beautiful, if it be beauty's test To match a classic model when perfectly at rest; And she did not look bewitchingly, if witchery it be, To have a forehead and a lip transparent as the sea. ...
Peter Wilson, A.R.A., In his small atelier, Studied Continental Schools, Drew by Academic rules. So he made his bid for fame, But no golden answer came, For the fashion of his day...
I met you first - ah, when did I first meet you? When I was full of wonder, and innocent, Standing meek-eyed with those of choric bent, While dimming day grew dimmer In the pulpit-glimmer. ...
You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam; You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear; You lift it with your bay'nit, and you sniff the fragrant steam; The very breath of it is ripe with cheer....