TIR. Choose the darkest part o' th' grove, Such as ghosts at noonday love. Dig a trench, and dig it nigh Where the bones of Laius lie; Altars raised, of turf or stone,...
Think not that incense-smoke has had its day. My friends, the incense-time has but begun. Creed upon creed, cult upon cult shall bloom, Shrine after shrine grow gray beneath the sun. ...
In Bruges town is many a street Whence busy life hath fled; Where, without hurry, noiseless feet The grass-grown pavement tread. There heard we, halting in the shade Flung from a Convent-tower,...
On his morning rounds the Master Goes to learn how all things fare; Searches pasture after pasture, Sheep and cattle eyes with care; And, for silence or for talk, He hath comrades in his walk;...
You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napol'on Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind,...
A Traveler on the skirt of Sarum's Plain Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare; Stooping his gait, but not as if to gain Help from the staff he bore; for mien and air...
Here went a horse with heavy laboring stride Along the woodland side; Deep in the clay his iron hoof-marks show, Patient and slow, Where with his human burden yesterday He passed this way. ...
Just for a space that I met her-- Just for a day in the train! It began when she feared it would wet her, That tiniest spurtle of rain: So we tucked a great rug in the sashes,...
Higher there, higher, far from the ways, from the farms and the valleys, beyond the trees, beyond the hills and the grasses' haze, far from the herd-trampled tapestries, ...
The summer is just in its grandest prime, The earth is green and the skies are blue; But where is the lilt of the olden time, When life was a melody set to rhyme,...
Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before I knew myself beloved, save by the sense All women have, a shadowy confidence Half-fear, that feels its bliss nor asks for more,...
And do I then wonder that Julia deceives me, When surely there's nothing in nature more common? She vows to be true, and while vowing she leaves me-- And could I expect any more from a woman? ...
The new world honors him whose lofty plea For England's freedom made her own more sure, Whose song, immortal as its theme, shall be Their common freehold while both worlds endure
I desire the door-sill of my beloved More than a king's house; I desire the shadow of the wall where her beauty hides More than the Delhi palaces. Why did you wait till spring;...