They are gone: all is still: Foolish heart, dost thou quiver? Nothing moves on the lawn but the quick lilac shade. Far up gleams the house, and beneath flows the river....
In the deserted, moon-blanched street, How lonely rings the echo of my feet! Those windows, which I gaze at, frown, Silent and white, unopening down, Repellent as the world, but see,...
One Morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd. My friend and I, by chance we talk'd Of Lessing's famed Laoco'n; And after we awhile had gone In Lessing's track, and tried to see What painting is, what poetry,...
'Henri Heine', , 'tis here! The black tombstone, the name Carved there, no more! and the smooth, Swarded alleys, the limes Touch'd with yellow by hot Summer, but under them still...
'Oh could thy grave at home, at Carthage, be!' Care not for that, and lay me where I fall. Everywhere heard will be the judgment-call. But at God's altar, oh! remember me. ...
Saint Brandan sails the northern main; The brotherhood of saints are glad. He greets them once, he sails again; So late! such storms! The Saint is mad!
Say, what blinds us, that we claim the glory Of possessing powers not our share? Since man woke on earth, he knows his story, But, before we woke on earth, we were. ...
Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.
Stop Not to me, at this bitter departing, Speak of the sure consolations of Time. Fresh be the wound, still-renew'd be its smarting, So but thy image endure in its prime. ...
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask, Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all the Tartar camp along the stream Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep;...
One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, One lesson that in every wind is blown, One lesson of two duties serv'd in one, Though the loud world proclaim their enmity Of Toil unsever'd from Tranquillity:...
Not in sunk Spain's prolong'd death agony; Not in rich England, bent but to make pour The flood of the world's commerce on her shore; Not in that madhouse, France, from whence the cry...
Thou, who dost dwell alone, Thou, who dost know thine own, Thou, to whom all are known From the cradle to the grave, Save, oh, save. From the world's temptations, From tribulations;...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes. The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride,...