I Art thou indeed among these, Thou of the tyrannous crew, The kingdoms fed upon blood, O queen from of old of the seas, England, art thou of them too That drink of the poisonous flood,...
I Is it Midsummer here in the heavens that illumine October on earth? Can the year, when his heart is fulfilled with desire of the days of his mirth, Redeem them, recall, or remember?...
Written on the news of the death of Lord Leighton A light has passed that never shall pass away, A sun has set whose rays are unquelled of night. The loyal grace, the courtesy bright as day,...
An age too great for thought of ours to scan, A wave upon the sleepless sea of time That sinks and sleeps for ever, ere the chime Pass that salutes with blessing, not with ban,...
I. Twice twelve times have the springs of years refilled Their fountains from the river-head of time Since by the green sea's marge, ere autumn chilled...
The stars are strong in the deeps of the lustrous night, Cold and splendid as death if his dawn be bright; Cold as the cast-off garb that is cold as clay,...
Till death have broken Sweet life's love-token, Till all be spoken That shall be said, What dost thou praying, O soul, and playing With song and saying, Things flown and fled?...
Three times thrice hath winter's rough white wing Crossed and curdled wells and streams with ice Since his birth whose praises love would sing Three times thrice. ...
Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can the floods drown it. Who shall snare or slay the white dove Faith, whose very dreams crown it, Gird it round with grace and peace, deep,...
Summer, and noon, and a splendour of silence, felt, Seen, and heard of the spirit within the sense. Soft through the frondage the shades of the sunbeams melt,...
Strong as death, and cruel as the grave, Clothed with cloud and tempest's blackening breath, Known of death's dread self, whom none outbrave, Strong as death, ...
If wrath embitter the sweet mouth of song, And make the sunlight fire before those eyes That would drink draughts of peace from the unsoiled skies, The wrongdoing is not ours, but ours the wrong,...
Some die singing, and some die swinging, And weel mot a' they be: Some die playing, and some die praying, And I wot sae winna we, my dear, And I wot sae winna we. Some die sailing, and some die wailing,...
The rose to the wind has yielded: all its leaves Lie strewn on the graveyard grass, and all their light And colour and fragrance leave our sense and sight Bereft as a man whom bitter time bereaves...