Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer! Ye fresh Flowers that brave What Summer here escapes not, the fierce wave, And whole artillery of the western blast,...
So now your tale of years is done, Old Fluff, my friend, and you have won, Beyond our land of mist and rain, Your way to the Elysian plain, Where through the shining hours of heat...
Bodies glad, erect, Beautiful with youth, Life's elect, Nature's truth, Marching host on host, Those bright, unblemished ones, Manhood's boast, Feed them to the guns. ...
O youth, beside thy silver-springing fountain, In sight and hearing of thy father's cot, These and the morning woods, the lonely mountain, These are thy peace, although thou know'st it not....
Waking in the night to pray, Sleeping when the answer comes, Foolish are we even at play-- Tearfully we beat our drums! Cast the good dry bread away, Weep, and gather up the crumbs! ...
Some poor man in need To bless and to feed, I bring at its worth, This day of my birth, A book, - from my youth I must own. But Who in His power Gave bud and gave flower,...
Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here While Thames among his willows from thy view Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene Around contemplate well. This is the place...
Many days have come and gone, Many suns have set and shone, HERRICK, since thou sang'st of Wake, Morris-dance and Barley-break;-- Many men have ceased from care, Many maidens have been fair,...
Off in a perfumed land bathed gently by the sun, Under a palm tree's shade tinged with a crimson trace, A place where indolence drops on the eyes like rain, I met a Creole lady of unstudied grace. ...
Kisses are long forgotten of this twain, Kisses and words - the sweet small prophecies That run before the Lord of Love: the fain Touch of the hand, and feasting of the eyes,...
Such was old Chaucer. such the placid mien Of him who first with harmony inform'd The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. these ancient walls...
Lover of England, stand awhile and gaze With thankful heart, and lips refrained from praise; They rest beyond the speech of human pride Who served with Nelson and with Nelson died.
It is a pity and a shame - alas! alas! I know it is, To tread the trodden grapes again, but so it has been, so it is; The purple vintage long is past, with ripened clusters bursting so...
I've tinkered at my bits of rhymes In weary, woeful, waiting times; In doleful hours of battle-din, Ere yet they brought the wounded in; Through vigils of the fateful night,...
This now is the poem of praise and of lamentation that was made for Columcille, Speckled Salmon of the Boyne, High Saint of the Gael, by Forgaill that was afterwards called Blind Forgaill, Chief Poet of Ireland: ...
Storm and shame and fraud and darkness fill the nations full with night: Hope and fear whose eyes yearn eastward have but fire and sword in sight: One alone, whose name is one with glory, sees and seeks the light....
For Life I had never cared greatly, As worth a man's while; Peradventures unsought, Peradventures that finished in nought, Had kept me from youth and through manhood till lately Unwon by its style....