I Soft, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet. A babe's hands open as to greet...
East and north a waste of waters, south and west Lonelier lands than dreams in sleep would feign to be, When the soul goes forth on travel, and is prest Round and compassed in with clouds that flash and flee...
Along these low pleached lanes, on such a day, So soft a day as this, through shade and sun, With glad grave eyes that scanned the glad wild way, And heart still hovering o'er a song begun,...
The sea is at ebb, and the sound of her utmost word Is soft as the least wave's lapse in a still small reach. From bay into bay, on quest of a goal deferred, From headland ever to headland and breach to breach...
Stately stand the sunflowers, glowing down the garden-side, Ranged in royal rank arow along the warm grey wall, Whence their deep disks burn at rich midnoon afire with pride,...
Here begins the sea that ends not till the world's end. Where we stand, Could we know the next high sea-mark set beyond these waves that gleam, We should know what never man hath known, nor eye of man hath scanned....
Rains have left the sea-banks ill to climb: Waveward sinks the loosening seaboard's floor: Half the sliding cliffs are mire and slime. Earth, a fruit rain-rotted to the core,...
The sea is awake, and the sound of the song of the joy of her waking is rolled From afar to the star that recedes, from anear to the wastes of the wild wide shore....
Spray of song that springs in April, light of love that laughs through May, Live and die and live for ever: nought of all thing far less fair Keeps a surer life than these that seem to pass like fire away....
Seaward goes the sun, and homeward by the down We, before the night upon his grave be sealed. Low behind us lies the bright steep murmuring town, High before us heaves the steep rough silent field....
Still the sovereign trees Make the sundawn's breeze More bright, more sweet, more heavenly than it rose, As wind and sun fulfil Their living rapture: still Noon, dawn, and evening thrill...
Strophe 1. Spring, born in heaven ere many a springtime flown, Dead spring that sawest on earth A babe of deathless birth, A flower of rosier flowerage than thine own,...
I Thee, the son of God most high, Famed for harping song, will I Proclaim, and the deathless oracular word From the snow-topped rock that we gaze on heard,...
Had I wist, when life was like a warm wind playing Light and loud through sundawn and the dew's bright trust, How the time should come for hearts to sigh in saying 'Had I wist' - ...
All the golden air is full of balm and bloom Where the hawthorns line the shelving dyke with flowers. Joyous children born of April's happiest hours, High and low they laugh and lighten, knowing their doom...
I Dawn is alive in the world, and the darkness of heaven and of earth Subsides in the light of a smile more sweet than the loud noon's mirth, Spring lives as a babe lives, glad and divine as the sun, and unsure...
The far green westward heavens are bland, The far green Wiltshire downs are clear As these deep meadows hard at hand: The sight knows hardly far from near,...
In the month of the long decline of roses I, beholding the summer dead before me, Set my face to the sea and journeyed silent, Gazing eagerly where above the sea-mark...
Lift up thy lips, turn round, look back for love, Blind love that comes by night and casts out rest; Of all things tired thy lips look weariest, Save the long smile that they are wearied of....
When grace is given us ever to behold A child some sweet months old, Love, laying across our lips his finger, saith, Smiling, with bated breath, Hush! for the holiest thing that lives is here,...