There were two youths of equal age, Wit, station, strength, and parentage; They studied at the selfsame schools, And shaped their thoughts by common rules.
The dubious daylight ended, And I walked the Town alone, unminding whither bound and why, As from each gaunt street and gaping square a mist of light ascended And dispersed upon the sky. ...
Just at the corner of the wall We met yes, he and I - Who had not faced in camp or hall Since we bade home good-bye, And what once happened came back all - Out of those years gone by. ...
I waited at home all the while they were boating together - My wife and my near neighbour's wife: Till there entered a woman I loved more than life,...
I rose at night, and visited The Cave of the Unborn: And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head To haste its advent morn. ...
Warm yellowy-green In the blue serene, How they skip and sway On this autumn day! They cannot know What has happened below, - That their boughs down there Are already quite bare,...
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. ...
When the thorn on the down Quivers naked and cold, And the mid-aged and old Pace the path there to town, In these words dry and drear It seems to them sighing: "O winter is trying...
Forty Augusts - aye, and several more - ago, When I paced the headlands loosed from dull employ, The waves huzza'd like a multitude below In the sway of an all-including joy Without cloy. ...
You did not walk with me Of late to the hill-top tree By the gated ways, As in earlier days; You were weak and lame, So you never came, And I went alone, and I did not mind,...
A very West-of-Wessex girl, As blithe as blithe could be, Was once well-known to me, And she would laud her native town, And hope and hope that we Might sometime study up and down...
My father was the whipper-in, - Is still if I'm not misled? And now I see, where the hedge is thin, A little spot of red; Surely it is my father Going to the kennel-shed! ...
Why does she turn in that shy soft way Whenever she stirs the fire, And kiss to the chimney-corner wall, As if entranced to admire Its whitewashed bareness more than the sight...
The wind blew words along the skies, And these it blew to me Through the wide dusk: "Lift up your eyes, Behold this troubled tree, Complaining as it sways and plies; It is a limb of thee. ...
I travel on by barren farms, And gulls glint out like silver flecks Against a cloud that speaks of wrecks, And bellies down with black alarms. I say: "Thus from my lady's arms...