I rose and went to Rou'tor Town With gaiety and good heart, And ardour for the start, That morning ere the moon was down That lit me off to Rou'tor Town...
I said and sang her excellence: They called it laud undue. (Have your way, my heart, O!) Yet what was homage far above The plain deserts of my olden Love Proved verity of my new. ...
Pet was never mourned as you, Purrer of the spotless hue, Plumy tail, and wistful gaze While you humoured our queer ways, Or outshrilled your morning call Up the stairs and through the hall -...
Show me again the time When in the Junetide's prime We flew by meads and mountains northerly! - Yea, to such freshness, fairness, fulness, fineness, freeness, Love lures life on. ...
But don't you know it, my dear, Don't you know it, That this day of the year (What rainbow-rays embow it!) We met, strangers confessed, But parted - blest?
What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray, Leaving all that here can win us; What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away?...
We passed where flag and flower Signalled a jocund throng; We said: "Go to, the hour Is apt!" and joined the song; And, kindling, laughed at life and care,...
"O I won't lead a homely life As father's Jack and mother's Jill, But I will be a fiddler's wife, With music mine at will! Just a little tune, Another one soon,...
When your soft welcomings were said, This curl was waving on your head, And when we walked where breakers dinned It sported in the sun and wind, And when I had won your words of grace...
Whence comes Solace? - Not from seeing What is doing, suffering, being, Not from noting Life's conditions, Nor from heeding Time's monitions; But in cleaving to the Dream, And in gazing at the gleam...
I could hear a gown-skirt rustling Before I could see her shape, Rustling through the heather That wove the common's drape, On that evening of dark weather When I hearkened, lips agape. ...
My ardours for emprize nigh lost Since Life has bared its bones to me, I shrink to seek a modern coast Whose riper times have yet to be; Where the new regions claim them free...
When a night in November Blew forth its bleared airs An infant descended His birth-chamber stairs For the very first time, At the still, midnight chime; All unapprehended...