Yea, as I sit here, crutched, and cricked, and bent, I think of Panthera, who underwent Much from insidious aches in his decline; But his aches were not radical like mine;...
"Why do you sit, O pale thin man, At the end of the room By that harpsichord, built on the quaint old plan? It is cold as a tomb, And there's not a spark within the grate; And the jingling wires...
Nobody says: Ah, that is the place Where chanced, in the hollow of years ago, What none of the Three Towns cared to know The birth of a little girl of grace - The sweetest the house saw, first or last;...
What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray, To hazards whence no tears can win us; What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away?...
We walked where Victor Jove was shrined awhile, And passed to Livia's rich red mural show, Whence, thridding cave and Criptoportico, We gained Caligula's dissolving pile....
They sit and smoke on the esplanade, The man and his friend, and regard the bay Where the far chalk cliffs, to the left displayed, Smile sallowly in the decline of day....
"Awake! I'm off to cities far away," I said; and rose, on peradventures bent. The chimes played "Life's a Bumper!" on that day To the measure of my walking as I went:...
To Jenny came a gentle youth From inland leazes lone, His love was fresh as apple-blooth By Parrett, Yeo, or Tone. And duly he entreated her To be his tender minister, And call him aye her own....
He saw the portrait of his enemy, offered At auction in a street he journeyed nigh, That enemy, now late dead, who in his life-time Had injured deeply him the passer-by....
We two kept house, the Past and I, The Past and I; I tended while it hovered nigh, Leaving me never alone. It was a spectral housekeeping Where fell no jarring tone,...
"I am playing my oldest tunes," declared she, "All the old tunes I know, - Those I learnt ever so long ago." - Why she should think just then she'd play them Silence cloaks like snow. ...
Some say the spot is banned; that the pillar Cross-and-Hand Attests to a deed of hell; But of else than of bale is the mystic tale That ancient Vale-folk tell. ...