Already in the dew-wrapped vineyards dry Dense weights of heat press down. The large bright drops Shrink in the leaves. From dark acacia tops The nuthatch flings his short reiterate cry;...
Long hours ago, while yet the morn was blithe, Nor sharp athirst had drunk the beaded dew, A reaper came, and swung his cradled scythe Around this stump, and, shearing slowly, drew...
Even as I watched the daylight how it sped From noon till eve, and saw the light wind pass In long pale waves across the flashing grass, And heard through all my dreams, wherever led,...
To-day the world is wide and fair With sunny fields of lucid air, And waters dancing everywhere; The snow is almost gone; The noon is builded high with light, And over heaven's liquid height,...
A moment the wild swallows like a flight Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high, Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky. The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight,...
On such a day the shrunken stream Spends its last water and runs dry; Clouds like far turrets in a dream Stand baseless in the burning sky. On such a day at every rod The toilers in the hay-field halt,...
By a void and soundless river On the outer edge of space, Where the body comes not ever, But the absent dream hath place, Stands a city, tall and quiet, And its air is sweet and dim;...
The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore, And on our ears from deep among the hills Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar....
What would'st thou have for easement after grief, When the rude world hath used thee with despite, And care sits at thine elbow day and night, Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief?...
March is slain; the keen winds fly; Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good-bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well Withered things to make us glad,...
We in sorrow coldly witting, In the bleak world sitting, sitting, By the forest, near the mould, Heard the summer calling, calling, Through the dead leaves falling, falling,...
Far above us where a jay Screams his matins to the day, Capped with gold and amethyst, Like a vapour from the forge Of a giant somewhere hid, Out of hearing of the clang...
By silent forest and field and mossy stone, We come from the wooded hill, and we go to the sea. We labour, and sing sweet songs, but we never moan, For our mother, the sea, is calling us cheerily....
O sun, shine hot on the river; For the ice is turning an ashen hue, And the still bright water is looking through, And the myriad streams are greeting you With a ballad of life to the giver,...
There is no break in all the wide grey sky, Nor light on any field, and the wind grieves, And talks of death. Where cold grey waters lie Round greyer stones, and the new-fallen leaves...
Harsh thoughts, blind angers, and fierce hands, That keep this restless world at strife, Mean passions that, like choking sands, Perplex the stream of life,
The sun looks over a little hill And floods the valley with gold - A torrent of gold; And the hither field is green and still; Beyond it a cloud outrolled, Is glowing molten and bright;...
Why weep ye in your innocent toil at all? Sweet little hands, why halt and tremble so? Full many a wrong note falls, but let it fall! Each note to me is like a golden glow;...