From cold Norse caves or buccaneer Southern seas Oft come repenting tempests here to die; Bewailing old-time wrecks and robberies, They shrive to priestly pines with many a sigh,...
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea, How long they kiss in sight of all the lands. Ah! longer, longer, we.
O wish that's vainer than the plash Of these wave-whimsies on the shore: "Give us a pearl to fill the gash - God, let our dead friend live once more!" ...
Once, at night, in the manor wood My Love and I long silent stood, Amazed that any heavens could Decree to part us, bitterly repining. My Love, in aimless love and grief,...
Sail fast, sail fast, Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams; Sweep lordly o'er the drowned Past, Fly glittering through the sun's strange beams; Sail fast, sail fast....
Young palmer sun, that to these shining sands Pourest thy pilgrim's tale, discoursing still Thy silver passages of sacred lands, With news of Sepulchre and Dolorous Hill, ...
That air same Jones, which lived in Jones, He had this pint about him: He'd swear with a hundred sighs and groans, That farmers MUST stop gittin' loans, And git along without 'em: ...
In the South lies a lonesome, hungry Land; He huddles his rags with a cripple's hand; He mutters, prone on the barren sand, What time his heart is breaking.
"If life were caught by a clarionet, And a wild heart, throbbing in the reed, Should thrill its joy and trill its fret, And utter its heart in every deed,
Were silver pink, and had a soul, Which soul were shy, which shyness might A visible influence be, and roll Through heaven and earth - 'twere thou, O light!
Over the monstrous shambling sea, Over the Caliban sea, Bright Ariel-cloud, thou lingerest: Oh wait, oh wait, in the warm red West, - Thy Prospero I'll be.
The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet, And laid him kneeling at thy feet. But, - guerdon rich for favor rare! The wind hath all thy holy hair To kiss and to sing through and to flare...
Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize, As if before young Violet's dreaming eyes Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright...
The sun has kissed the violet sea, And burned the violet to a rose. O Sea! wouldst thou not better be Mere violet still? Who knows? who knows? Well hides the violet in the wood:...
Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea, Then vanish, and die utterly. One would not know that rain-drops fell If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.
Time, hurry my Love to me: Haste, haste! Lov'st not good company? Here's but a heart-break sandy waste 'Twixt Now and Then. Why, killing haste Were best, dear Time, for thee, for thee! ...