''As the dawn loves the sunlight I love thee;' As men that shall be swallowed of the sea Love the sea's lovely beauty; as the night That wanes before it loves the young sweet light,...
Out of the night arose the second day, And saw the ship's bows break the shoreward spray. As the sun's boat of gold and fire began To sail the sea of heaven unsailed of man,...
Love, that is first and last of all things made, The light that has the living world for shade, The spirit that for temporal veil has on The souls of all men woven in unison,...
About the middle music of the spring Came from the castled shore of Ireland's king A fair ship stoutly sailing, eastward bound And south by Wales and all its wonders round...
Spring watched her last moon burn and fade with May While the days deepened toward a bridal day. And on her snowbright hand the ring was set While in the maiden's ear the song's word yet...
Fate, that was born ere spirit and flesh were made, The fire that fills man's life with light and shade; The power beyond all godhead which puts on All forms of multitudinous unison,...
Enough of ease, O Love, enough of light, Enough of rest before the shadow of night. Strong Love, whom death finds feebler; kingly Love, Whom time discrowns in season, seeing thy dove...
But all that year in Brittany forlorn, More sick at heart with wrath than fear of scorn And less in love with love than grief, and less With grief than pride of spirit and bitterness,...
A little time, O Love, a little light, A little hour for ease before the night. Sweet Love, that art so bitter; foolish Love, Whom wise men know for wiser, and thy dove...
But that same night in Cornwall oversea Couched at Queen Iseult's hand, against her knee, With keen kind eyes that read her whole heart's pain Fast at wide watch lay Tristram's hound Hodain,...
The days of a man are threescore years and ten. The days of his life were half a man's, whom we Lament, and would yet not bid him back, to be Partaker of all the woes and ways of men....
Sea and land are fairer now, nor aught is all the same, Since a mightier hand than Time's hath woven their votive wreath. Rocks as swords half drawn from out the smooth wave's jewelled sheath,...
'As a matter of fact, no man living, or who ever lived, not C'sar or Pericles, not Shakespeare or Michael Angelo, could confer honour more than he took on entering the House of Lords.' - Saturday Review, December 15, 1883....
Looking on a page where stood Graven of old on old-world wood Death, and by the grave's edge grim, Pale, the young man facing him, Asked my well-beloved of me Once what strange thing this might be,...
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee, Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun?...
Outside the garden The wet skies harden; The gates are barred on The summer side: "Shut out the flower-time, Sunbeam and shower-time; Make way for our time," Wild winds have cried....