Queer are the ways of a man I know: He comes and stands In a careworn craze, And looks at the sands And the seaward haze, With moveless hands And face and gaze,...
Dearest, a look is but a ray Reflected in a certain way; A word, whatever tone it wear, Is but a trembling wave of air; A touch, obedience to a clause In nature's pure material laws. ...
Quixotic is his enterprise, and hopeless his adventure is, Who seeks for jocularities that haven't yet been said. The world has joked incessantly for over fifty centuries,...
At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering bills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky?...
The Pobble who has no toes Had once as many as we; When they said, "Some day you may lose them all;" He replied, "Fish fiddle de-dee!" And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink...
Down, you mongrel, Death! Back into your kennel! I have stolen breath In a stalk of fennel! You shall scratch and you shall whine Many a night, and you shall worry Many a bone, before you bury...
A song is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing! In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars, And in the fold I hear the bell,...
I cannot pipe as I was wont to do, Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too; My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree, And give it to the sylvan deity.
Though you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise,...
May his pretty dukeship grow Like t'a rose of Jericho: Sweeter far than ever yet Showers or sunshines could beget. May the Graces and the Hours Strew his hopes and him with flowers:...
The rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He passed through the doorway into the street, A strong wind lifted his hat from his head, And he uttered some words that were far from sweet....
As the full moon shining there To the sun that lighteth her Am I unto thee for ever, O my secret glory-giver! O my light, I am dark but fair, Black but fair. ...
In my thought I see you stand with a path on either hand, -Hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd meadow-land. And your lost voice with the things that it decreed across me thrills,...