Out of thy door I run to do the thing That calls upon me. Straight the wind of words Whoops from mine ears the sounds of them that sing About their work, "My God, my father-king!" ...
Look! look there! Send your eyes across the gray By my finger-point away Through the vaporous, fumy air. Beyond the air, you see the dark? Beyond the dark, the dawning day?...
What! see ye nothing yet? Knit your eyebrows close, and stare; Send your souls forth in the gaze, As my finger-point is set, Through the thick of the foggy air....
Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush, And back gaed the stanes wi' a whurr; The king's son walkit i' the evenin hush, To hear the sea murmur and murr.
Kiss me: there now, little Neddy, Do you see her staring steady? There again you had a chance of her! Didn't you catch the pretty glance of her? See her nest! On any planet Never was a sweeter than it!...
She comes! again she comes, the bright-eyed moon! Under a ragged cloud I found her out, Clasping her own dark orb like hope in doubt! That ragged cloud hath waited her since noon,...
Be welcome, year! with corn and sickle come; Make poor the body, but make rich the heart: What man that bears his sheaves, gold-nodding, home, Will heed the paint rubbed from his groaning cart! ...
The brother knew well the castle old, Every closet, each outlook fair, Every turret and bartizan bold, Every chamber, garnished or bare. The brother was out in the heavenly air;...
Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome! Sang the Bell to himself in his house at home, High in the church-tower, lone and unseen, In a twilight of ivy, cool and green; With his Bing, Bing, Bim, Bing, Bang, Bome!...
Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We may not start To find thee with us in thine ancient dress, Haggard and pale from some bleak wilderness, Empty of all save God and thy loud heart,...
Doon cam the sunbeams, and up gaed the stour, As we spangt ower the road at ten mile the hoor, The horse wasna timmer, the cart wasna strae, And little cared we for the burn or the brae. ...
The thousand streets of London gray Repel all country sights; But bar not winds upon their way, Nor quench the scent of new-mown hay In depth of summer nights.
'Tis time to sleep, my little boy: Why gaze thy bright eyes so? At night our children, for new joy Home to thy father go, But thou art wakeful! Sleep, my child; The moon and stars are gone;...
See how the storm of life ascends Up through the shadow of the world! Beyond our gaze the line extends, Like wreaths of vapour tempest-hurled! Grasp tighter, brother, lest the storm...