Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me....
O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,...
And ask ye why these sad tears stream? Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping? I had a dream'a lovely dream, Of her that in the grave is sleeping. ...
A voice spake out of the skies To a just man and a wise' 'The world and all within it Will only last a minute!' And a beggar began to cry 'Food, food or I die'! Is it worth his while to eat,...
Dust are our frames; and gilded dust, our pride Looks only for a moment whole and sound; Like that long-buried body of the king, Found lying with his urns and ornaments,...
Dainty little maiden, whither would you wander? Whither from this pretty home, the home where mother dwells? 'Far and far away,' said the dainty little maiden,...
What does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer, Till thy little wings are stronger....
As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood, And ebb into a former life, or seem To lapse far back in some confused dream To states of mystical similitude,...
Once more the Heavenly Power Makes all things new, And domes the red-plow'd hills With loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills, The throstles too.
Thou third great Canning, stand among our best And noblest, now thy long day's work hath ceased, Here silent in our Minster of the West Who wert the voice of England in the East.
Hateful is the dark-blue sky, Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea. Death is the end of life; ah, why Should life all labor be? Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb....
Helen's tower, here I stand, Dominant over sea and land. Son's love built me, and I hold Mother's love in letter'd gold. Love is in and out of time, I am mortal stone and lime....
How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream, With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half-dream! To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,...
Nightingales warbled without, Within was weeping for thee; Shadows of three dead men Walk'd in the walks with me, Shadows of three dead men, and thou wast one of the three. ...
Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light had we: for that we do repent;...