Here is a tale for workmen and their masters: There was a torrent once that down a mountain Flashed its resistless way; a foaming fountain, Basaltic-built, 'twixt cataract-hewn pilasters....
Crab-Faced, crab-tongued, with deep-set eyes that glared, Unfriendly and unfriended lived the crone Upon the common in her hut, alone, Past which but seldom any villager fared....
Secluded, solitary on some underbough, Or cradled in a leaf, 'mid glimmering light, Like Puck thou crouchest: Haply watching how The slow toadstool comes bulging, moony white,...
Secluded, solitary on some underbough, Or cradled in a leaf, 'mid glimmering light, Like Puck thou crouchest: Haply watching how The slow toad-stool comes bulging, moony white,...
Secluded, solitary on some underbough, Or cradled in a leaf, 'mid glimmering light, Like Puck thou crouchest: Haply watching how The slow toadstool comes bulging, moony white,...
There lay in a vale 'twixt lone mountains A garden entangled with flowers, Where the whisper of echoing fountains Stirred softly the musk-breathing bowers....
In ages dead, a troglodyte, At the hollow roots of a monster height, - That grew from the heart of the world to light, - I dwelt in caverns: over me Were mountains older than the moon;...
He stood where all the rare voluptuous West, Like some mad Maenad wine-stained to the breast, Shot from delirious lips of ruby must Long, fierce, triumphant smiles wherein hot lust...
Had fallen a fragrant shower; The leaves were dripping yet; Each fern and rain-weighed flower Around were gleaming wet; On ev'ry bosky bower A million gems were set. ...
Mark thou! a shadow crowned with fire of hell. Man holds her in his heart as night doth hold The moonlight memories of day's dead gold; Or as a winter-withered asphodel...
Each form of beauty's but the new disguise Of thoughts more beautiful than forms can be; Sceptics, who search with unanointed eyes, Never the Earth's wild fairy-dance shall see.
Wild son of Heav'n, with laughter and alarm, Now East, now West, now North, now South he goes, Bearing in one harsh hand dark death and storm, And in the other, sunshine and a rose.
I Heard the hylas in the bottomlands Piping a reed-note in the praise of Spring: The South-wind brought the music on its wing, As 't were a hundred strands...
The dogs made way for him and snarled and ran; And little children to their parents clung, Big-eyed with fear, when, gruff of look and tongue, Bent-backed he passed who had the village ban....