Clouds here and there arisen an hour past noon Chequered our English heaven with lengthening bars And shadow and sound of wheel-winged thunder-cars Assembling strength to put forth tempest soon,...
Greene, garlanded with February's few flowers, Ere March came in with Marlowe's rapturous rage: Peele, from whose hand the sweet white locks of age Took the mild chaplet woven of honoured hours:...
Sons born of many a loyal Muse to Ben, All true-begotten, warm with wine or ale, Bright from the broad light of his presence, hail! Prince Randolph, nighest his throne of all his men,...
Out of the depths of darkling life where sin Laughs piteously that sorrow should not know Her own ill name, nor woe be counted woe; Where hate and craft and lust make drearier din...
Tom, if they loved thee best who called thee Tom. What else may all men call thee, seeing thus bright Even yet the laughing and the weeping light That still thy kind old eyes are kindled from?...
A wild moon riding high from cloud to cloud, That sees and sees not, glimmering far beneath, Hell's children revel along the shuddering heath With dirge-like mirth and raiment like a shroud:...
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee. Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun?...
Rose-red lilies that bloom on the banner; Rose-cheeked gardens that revel in spring; Rose-mouthed acacias that laugh as they climb, Like plumes for a queen's hand fashioned to fan her...
When the game began between them for a jest, He played king and she played queen to match the best; Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,...
It hath been seen and yet it shall be seen That out of tender mouths God's praise hath been Made perfect, and with wood and simple string He hath played music sweet as shawm-playing...
Be glad in heaven above all souls insphered, Most royal and most loyal born of men, Shakespeare, of all on earth beloved or feared Or worshipped, highest in sight of human ken....
The sundawn fills the land Full as a feaster's hand Fills full with bloom of bland Bright wine his cup; Flows full to flood that fills From the arch of air it thrills Those rust-red iron hills...
If the wind and the sunlight of April and August had mingled the past and hereafter In a single adorable season whose life were a rapture of love and of laughter,...
All the west, whereon the sunset sealed the dead year's glorious grave Fast with seals of light and fire and cloud that light and fire illume, Glows at heart and kindles earth and heaven with joyous blush and bloom,...
Let there be light, said Time: and England heard: And manhood grew to godhead at the word. No light had shone, since earth arose from sleep, So far; no fire of thought had cloven so deep....
The sea swings owre the slants of sand, All white with winds that drive; The sea swirls up to the still dim strand, Where nae man comes alive. At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf...
"The wind wears roun', the day wears doun, The moon is grisly grey; There's nae man rides by the mirk muirsides, Nor down the dark Tyne's way." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin....