There was a strife 'twixt man and maid Oh that was at the birth of time! But what befall 'twixt man and maid,, Oh that's beyond the grip of rhyme. 'Twas, 'Sweet, I must not bide with you,'...
Colour fulfils where Music has no power: By each man's light the unjudging glass betrays All men's surrender, each man's holiest hour And all the lit confusion of our days...
These were my companions going forth by night (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight. (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain,...
We've got the cholerer in camp, it's worse than forty fights; We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites. It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away,...
Dim dawn behind the tamerisks, the sky is saffron-yellow, As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow That the Day, the staring Easter Day, is born....
Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time's eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die: But, as new buds put forth To glad new men, Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth...
Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, oh, listen to my song,...
Gold is for the mistress, silver for the maid, Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade." "Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall, "But Iron, Cold Iron, is master of them all." ...
Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry (Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again!) Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply? A section, a pompom, an' six 'undred men. ...
We thought we ranked above the chance of ill. Others might fall, not we, for we were wise, Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will We let our servants drug our strength with lies....
As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine, Made play for her bully the Ship of the Line; So we, her bold daughters by iron and fire, Accost and decoy to our masters' desire. ...
Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old Winter, if he doubt, Tell him squat and square, a! Old Woman!...
Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide, By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried; Log in the plume-grass, hidden and lone; And where the earth-rat's mounds are strown;...
Singer and tailor am I, Doubled the joys that I know, Proud of my lilt to the sky, Proud of the house that I sew, Over and under, so weave I my music--so weave I the house that I sew. ...
The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar, Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind white sea-snakes are. There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,...
The stream is shrunk, the pool is dry, And we be comrades, thou and I; With fevered jowl and dusty flank Each jostling each along the bank; And, by one drouthy fear made still,...
When, foot to wheel and back to wind, The helmsman dare not look behind, But hears beyond his compass-light, The blind bow thunder through the night, And, like a harpstring ere it snaps,...