(To a tune of Blake's) I. Baby, baby bright, Sleep can steal from sight Little of your light: Soft as fire in dew, Still the life in you Lights your slumber through....
What needs our Cromwell stone or bronze to say His was the light that lit on England's way The sundawn of her time-compelling power, The noontide of her most imperial day?...
The love that comes and goes like wind or fire Hath words and wings wherewith to speak and flee. But love more deep than passion's deep desire, Clear and inviolable as the unsounded sea,...
Chief in thy generation born of men Whom English praise acclaimed as English-born, With eyes that matched the worldwide eyes of morn For gleam of tears or laughter, tenderest then...
Between the wave-ridge and the strand I let you forth in sight of land, Songs that with storm-crossed wings and eyes Strain eastward till the darkness dies; Let signs and beacons fall or stand,...
A year ago red wrath and keen despair Spake, and the sole word from their darkness sent Laid low the lord not all omnipotent Who stood most like a god of all that were...
Beneath the shadow of dawn's aerial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, past the shades where blind men grope...
Beloved above all nations, land adored, Sovereign in spirit and charm, by song and sword, Sovereign whose life is love, whose name is light, Italia, queen that hast the sun for lord,...
Is thine hour come to wake, O slumbering Night? Hath not the Dawn a message in thine ear? Though thou be stone and sleep, yet shalt thou hear When the word falls from heaven'Let there be light....
Abreast and ahead of the sea is a crag's front cloven asunder With strong sea-breach and with wasting of winds whence terror is shed As a shadow of death from the wings of the darkness on waters that thunder...
I Marlowe, the father of the sons of song Whose praise is England's crowning praise, above All glories else that crown her, sweet and strong As England, clothed with light and fire of love,...
Now who will speak, and lie not, And pledge not life, but give? Slaves herd with herded cattle: The dawn grows bright for battle, And if we die, we die not; And if we live, we live....
I Love me and leave me; what love bids retrieve me? can June's fist grasp May? Leave me and love me; hopes eyed once above me like spring's sprouts decay;...
Bill, I feel far from quite right if not further: already the pill Seems, if I may say so, to bubble inside me. A poet's heart, Bill, Is a sort of a thing that is made of the tenderest young bloom on a fruit....
I. The stainless soul that smiled through glorious eyes; The bright grave brow whereon dark fortune's blast Might blow, but might not bend it, nor o'ercast, Save for one fierce fleet hour of shame, the skies...