Here the sunshine, filtering down, Through leaves of emerald, dun and brown, Is green instead of golden And the hum and roar of the distant town In an endless hush is holden. ...
I lift my spirit to your cloudy thrones, And feel it broaden to your vast expanse, Oh! mountains, so immeasurably old, Crowned with bald rocks and everlasting cold,...
Marguerite,--oh Marguerite! Thy sleep is sound, and still and sweet, Framed in the pale gold of thy hair, Thy face is like an angel's fair, Marguerite,--oh Marguerite! ...
Thou comest to the year, And bringest all things beautiful and sweet; Thy lovely miracles themselves repeat In the green glory of the grass, And peeping flowers that stay our lingering feet...
Be pitiful, oh God! the night is long, My soul is faint with watching for the light, And still the gloom and doubt of seven-fold night Hangs heavy on my spirit: Thou art strong.-- Pity me, oh my God! ...
Only the commonest flowers Grow in my garden small, Like buttercups, and bouncing-bets, And hollyhocks by the wall, And sunflowers nodding their stately heads, Like grenadiers so tall....
Cradled in ice, and swathed in snows, And shining like a Christmas rose, Wreathed round with white chrysanthemums; Heaven in his innocent, brave blue eyes, Straight from the primal paradise,...
Night! the horrible wizard Night! The dumb and terrible Night Hath drawn his circle of magic, round Over the sky, and over the ground, Without a sound. Ah me, what woeful phantoms rise,...
Out of the dread eternities, The vast abyss of night, A glorious pageant rose and shone, And passed from human sight. We saw the glittering cavalcade, And heard inwove through all,...
Where shall we write your names, ye brave! Where build for you a monument, Who lie in many a sylvan grave, Stretched half across the continent! Young, bright and brave, the very flower...
When the earliest south winds softly blow Over the brown earth, and the waning snow In the last days of the discrowned March,-- Before the silver tassels of the larch, Or any tiniest bud or blade is seen;...
The wind croons under the icicled eaves-- Croons and mutters a wordless song, And the old elm chafes its skeleton leaves Against the windows all night long.
I touch but the things which are near; The heavens are too high for my reach: In shadow and symbol and creed, I discern not the soul from the deed, Nor the thought hidden under, from speech;...
If Thou who seest this heart of mine To earthly idols prone, Should'st all those clinging cords untwine, And take again Thy own,-- Help me to lay my hands in thine, And say Thy will be done! ...
Into the darkness and the deeps My thoughts have strayed, where silence dwells, Where the old world encrypted sleeps,-- Myriads of forms, in myriad cells, Of dead and inorganic things,...
Swift and silent and strong Under the low-browed arches, Through culverts, and under bridges, Sweeping with long forced marches Down to the ultimate ridges,-- The sand, and the reeds, and the midges,...
"Oh! spare dual idols of the past, Whose lips are dumb, whose eyes are dim; Truth's diadem is not for him Who comes, the fierce Iconoclast: Who wakes the battle's stormy blast,...
Dimly and dumbly under the ground, Groping the walls of their prison round, The roots of the aged and garrulous trees Are sending electrical messages From the under-world to the world without...