They loiter round the Dock that holds yon Ship Shuddering at the dark pool's defiled lip From springing bows to foam-deriding stern; They have left her, and await her call "Return!"...
When first Love came, then was I but a boy Swept with delirium of undreamt joy. Now Love comes to a man serious with change Of life and death--and makes the world dark and strange.
Thou shaking thy dark shadows down, Like leaves before the first leaves fall, Pourest upon the head of night Her loveliest loveliness of all-- Dark leaves that tremble When soft airs unto softer call....
Winter is fallen On the wretched grass, Dark winds have stolen All the colour that was. No leaf shivers: The bare boughs bend and creak as the wind moans by Fled is the fitful gleam of brightness...
Beauty walked over the hills and made them bright. She in the long fresh grass scattered her rains Sparkling and glittering like a host of stars, But not like stars cold, severe, terrible....
"----He still'd All sounds in air; and left so free mine ears That I might hear the music of the spheres, And all the angels singing out of heaven, Whose tunes were solemn, as to passion given."
In that dark silent hour When the wind wants power, And in the black height The sky wants light, Stirless and black In utter lack, And not a sound Escapes from that untroubled round:-- ...
In those old days you were called beautiful, But I have worn the beauty from your face; The flowerlike bloom has withered on your cheek With the harsh years, and the fire in your eyes...
O thou, my Muse, Beside the Kentish River running Through water-meads where dews Tossed flashing at thy feet And tossing flashed again When the timid herd By thy swift passing stirred...
I could not love if my thought loved not too, Nor could my body touch the body of you, Unless first in the dark night of the mind Love had fulfilled what Love had well designed. ...
Why dost thou, darksome Nightingale, Sing so distractingly--and here? Dawn's preludings prick my ear, Faint light is creeping up the vale, While on these dead thy rarer Song falls, dark night-farer....
O come you down from the far hills Whereon you fought, triumphed and died, Men at whose names the quick blood thrills And the heart's troubled in our side.