For the last time, The last, last time, The last ... All those last times have I lived through again, And every "last" renews itself in pain-- Yes, each returns, and each returns in vain:...
O gone are now those eager great glad days of days, but I remember Yet even yet the light that turned the saddest of sad hours to mirth; I remember how elate I swung upon the thrusting bowsprits,...
That lime tree on the distant rising ground (If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves Above the renewed green of wet August grass-- First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves Too soon was found....
O come you down from the far hills Whereon you fought, triumphed and died, Men at whose names the quick blood thrills And the heart's troubled in our side.
Standing close by you In the cold light Of two tall candles That measure the dark of night, I hear the mouse, The only thing that's moving In the quiet house.
Where is that country? The unresting mind Like a lapwing nears and leaves it and returns. I know those unknown hill-springs where they rise, I know the answer of the elms to the wind...
Beneath the trees with heedful step and slow At night I go, Fearful upon their whispering to break Lest they awake Out of those dreams of heavenly light that fill Their branches still...
She comes when I am grieving and doth say, "Child, here is that shall drive your grief away." When I am hopeless, kisses me and stirs My breast with the strong lively courage of hers....
The pigeons, following the faint warm light, Stayed at last on the roof till warmth was gone, Then in the mist that's hastier than night Disappeared all behind the carved dark stone,...
Gray were the rushes Beside the budless bushes, Green-patched the pond. The lark had left soaring Though yet the sun was pouring His gold here and beyond.
On the wide fields the water gleams like snow, And snow like water pale beneath pale sky, When old and burdened the white clouds are stooped low. Sudden as thought, or startled near bird's cry,...
I heard the rumbling guns. I saw the smoke, The unintelligible shock of hosts that still, Far off, unseeing, strove and strove again: And Beauty flying naked down the hill. ...
Thinking of these, of beautiful brief things, Of things that are of sense and spirit made, Of meadow flowers, dense hedges and dark bushes With roses trailing over nests of thrushes; ...
The tall slaves bow if that capricious King But glances as he passes; Their dark hoods drawing over abashed faces They bow humbly, unappealingly. The dark robes round their shuddering bodies cling,...
Loose me and let me go! I am not yours. I do not know Your dark name ev'n, O Powers That out of the deep rise And wave your arms To weave strange charms.