I dreamt the Roses one time went To meet and sit in Parliament; The place for these, and for the rest Of flowers, was thy spotless breast. Over the which a state was drawn Of tiffany, or cob-web lawn;...
Warm is the parlour atmosphere, Serene the lamp's soft light; The vivid embers, red and clear, Proclaim a frosty night. Books, varied, on the table lie, Three children o'er them bend,...
Somewhere, somewhen I've seen, But where or when I'll never know, Parrots of shrilly green With crests of shriller scarlet flying Out of black cedars as the sun was dying Against cold peaks of snow....
It's very disagreeable to sit here in the cold, And a sinful waste of time - ah, well, it's too late now to scold; I'll think about my sermon and my prayers for Sunday next,...
That you, friend Marcus, like a stoic, Can wish to die in strains heroic, No real fortitude implies: Yet, all must own, thy wish is wise. Thy curate's place, thy fruitful wife,...
This is the song of the parson's son, as he squats in his shack alone, On the wild, weird nights when the Northern Lights shoot up from the frozen zone,...
She passed the thorn-trees, whose gaunt branches tossed Their spider-shadows round her; and the breeze, Beneath the ashen moon, was full of frost, And mouthed and mumbled to the sickly trees,...
The chestnut steed stood by the gate His noble master's will to wait, The woody park so green and bright Was glowing in the morning light, The young leaves of the aspen trees...
Breathless was she and would not have us part: "Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this." But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart, And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
'Twas a fit hour for parting, For athwart the leaden sky The heavy clouds came gathering And sailing gloomily: The earth was drunk with heaven's tears, And each moaning autumn breeze...
One summer's morning I heard a lark Singing to heaven, a sweet-throated bird; One winter's night I was glad in the dark Because of the wondrous song I had heard.
The lady of Alzerno's hall Is waiting for her lord; The blackbird's song, the cuckoo's call No joy to her afford. She smiles not at the summer's sun, Nor at the winter's blast;...
And when Goll knew Finn to be watching for his life he made no attempt to escape but stopped where he was, without food, without drink, and he blinded with the sand that was blowing into his eyes. ...
We've rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations* come to hand, Together for a year and more around this stinkin' land: Now you are goin' home again, but we must see it through....