Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits, Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth, Come, let us go,--to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,...
Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages, Here, even yet, amid loss, change, and corruption, abide? Does there a spirit we know not, though seek, though we find, comprehend not,...
Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotonda, Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the Vatican Walls, Yet may we go, and recline, while a whole mighty world seems above us,...
Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander, Weary, yet eager and sure, Where shall I come to my love? Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me,...
There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno, Under Fiesole's heights, thither are we to return? There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters,...
But that from slow dissolving pomps of dawn No verity of slowly strengthening light Early or late hath issued; that the day Scarce-shown, relapses rather, self-withdrawn,...
Duty that's to say, complying, With whate'er's expected here; On your unknown cousin's dying, Straight be ready with the tear; Upon etiquette relying, Unto usage nought denying,...
So in the sinful streets, abstracted and alone, I with my secret self held communing of mine own. So in the southern city spake the tongue Of one that somewhat overwildly sung,...
'I don't very well understand what it's all about,' said my uncle. 'I won't say I didn't drop into a doze while the young man was drivelling through his latter soliloquies. But there was a great deal that was unmeaning, vague, ...
It is not sweet content, be sure, That moves the nobler Muse to song, Yet when could truth come whole and pure From hearts that inly writhe with wrong?
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie), The rainy clouds are filing fast below, And wet will be the path, and wet shall we....
Thought may well be ever ranging, And opinion ever changing, Task-work be, though ill begun, Dealt with by experience better; By the law and by the letter Duty done is duty done...
'I hope it is in good plain verse,' said my uncle, 'none of your hurry-scurry anap'sts, as you call them, in lines which sober people read for plain heroics. Nothing is more disagreeable than to say a line over two, or, it may ...
That children in their loveliness should die Before the dawning beauty, which we know Cannot remain, has yet begun to go; That when a certain period has passed by,...
Some future day when what is now is not, When all old faults and follies are forgot, And thoughts of difference passed like dreams away, We'll meet again, upon some future day. ...