When one is forty years and seven, Is seven and forty sad years old, He looks not onward for his Heaven, The future is too blank and cold, Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;...
Their eyes met; flashed an instant like swift swords That leapt unparring to each other's heart, Jarring convulsion through the inmost chords; Then fell, for they had fully done their part. ...
"Why are your songs all wild and bitter sad As funeral dirges with the orphans' cries? Each night since first the world was made hath had A sequent day to laugh it down the skies....
She was so good, and he was so bad A very pretty time they had! A pretty time, and it lasted long: Which of the two was more in the wrong? He befouled in the slough of sin;...
He came to the desert of London town Gray miles long; He wandered up and he wandered down, Singing a quiet song. He came to the desert of London town, Mirk miles broad;...