Works

Who cometh from fields of the south
With raiment of weeping and woe,
And a cry of the heart in her mouth,
And a step that is muffled and slow?

Her paths are the paths of the sun;...

No song is this of leaf and bird,
And gracious waters flowing;
I'm sick at heart, for I have heard
Big Billy Vickers 'blowing'.

He'd never take a leading place
In chambers legislative:...

When lost Francesca sobbed her broken tale
Of love and sin and boundless agony,
While that wan spirit by her side did wail
And bite his lips for utter misery...

Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
'On the wings of the tempest take wing,
And leave me the valleys, and go.'
And, straightway, the streams were unchained,...

Sad faces came round, and I dreamily said
'Though the harp of my country now slumbers,
Some hand will pass o'er it, in love for the dead,
And attune it to sorrowful numbers!'...

(Written in the shadow of 1872.)


Twelve years ago, when I could face
High heaven's dome with different eyes
In days full-flowered with hours of grace,
And nights not sad with sighs...

Ill fares it with the man whose lips are set
To bitter themes and words that spite the gods;
For, seeing how the son of Saturn sways
With eyes and ears for all, this one shall halt...