He's a boy, And that's the long and (chiefly) the short of it, And the point of it and the wonderful sport of it; A two-year-old with a taste for a toy, And two chubby fists to clutch it and grasp it,...
Take 'this of Juliet and her Romeo,' Dear Heart of mine, for though yon budding sky Yearns o'er Verona, and so long ago That kiss was kissed; yet surely Thou and I,...
We thought that winter, love, would never end, That the dark year had slain the innocent May, Nor hoped that your soft hand, this summer day, Would lie, as now, in mine, beloved friend;...
There, in my mind's-eye, pure it lay, My lodger's vote! 'Twas mine to-day. It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good, - Oh keep it uncorrupted, pray!...
Of all the wind-blown dust of faces fair, Had I a god's re-animating breath, Thee, like a perfumed torch in the dim air Lethean and the eyeless halls of death, Would I relume; the cresset of thine hair,...
Why did you go away without one word, Wave of the hand, or token of good-bye, Nor leave some message for me with flower or bird, Some sign to find you by;
Vast and mysterious brother, ere was yet of me So much as men may poise upon a needle's end, Still shook with laughter all this monstrous might of thee, And still with haughty crest it called the morning friend....