Where are you going with eyes so dull, You whose eyes were beautiful, You whose hair with the light was gay, And now is thin and harsh and gray? Is it age alone or age and tears...
It is here--the lime-tree in the garden path, The lilac by the wall, the ivied wall That was so high, the heavy, close-leaved creeper, The harsh gate jarring on its hinges still, The echoing clean flags--all...
All the night through I drank Sleep like water or cool cider; Life flowed over and I sank Down below the night of clouds.... Then on a pale horse was rider Through long brushing woods...
On the wide fields the water gleams like snow, And snow like water pale beneath pale sky, When old and burdened the white clouds are stooped low. Sudden as thought, or startled near bird's cry,...
I heard the rumbling guns. I saw the smoke, The unintelligible shock of hosts that still, Far off, unseeing, strove and strove again: And Beauty flying naked down the hill. ...