This is the place that I love the best, A little brown house like a ground-bird's nest, Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees, Summer retreat of the birds and bees. ...
Not great Vesuvius, in all his ire, Nor all the centuries, could hide your shame. There is the little window where you came, With eyes that woke the demon of desire,...
All through the night time, and all through the day time, Dreading the morning and dreading the night, Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time Season of beauty and season of blight,...
All through the night time, and all through the day time, Dreading the morning and dreading the night, Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time Season of beauty and season of blight,...
Seeking for happiness we must go slowly; The road leads not down avenues of haste; But often gently winds through by ways lowly, Whose hidden pleasures are serene and chaste...
I had seen our splendid soldiers in their khaki uniforms, And their leaders with a Sam Brown belt; I had seen the fighting Britons and Colonials in swarms, I had seen the blue-clad Frenchmen, and I felt...
Who thinks how desolate and strange To me must seem the autumn's change, When housed in attic or in chest, A lonely and unwilling guest, I lie through nights of bleak December,...
I cried, 'Dear Angel, lead me to the heights, And spur me to the top.' The Angel answered, 'Stop And set thy house in order; make it fair For absent ones who may be speeding there....
This is the world's stupendous hour - The supreme moment for the race To see the emptiness of power, The worthlessness of wealth and place, To see the purpose and the plan...
I have listened to the sighing of the burdened and the bound, I have heard it change to crying, with a menace in the sound; I have seen the money-getters pass unheeding on the way,...
There are, there are Invisible Great Helpers of the race. Across unatlased continents of space, From star to star. In answer to some soul's imperious need, They speed, they speed. ...
Somebody's baby was buried to-day - The empty white hearse from the grave rumbled back, And the morning somehow seemed less smiling and gay As I paused on the walk while it crossed on its way,...
I said I would have my fling, And do what a young man may; And I didn't believe a thing That the parsons have to say. I didn't believe in a God That gives us blood like fire,...
The saddest hour of anguish and of loss Is not that season of supreme despair When we can find no least light anywhere To gild the dread, black shadow of the Cross; Not in that luxury of sorrow when...
A modern hour from London (as we spin Into a silver thread the miles of space Between us and our goal), there is a place Apart from city traffic, dust, and din,...