Around the house the flakes fly faster, And all the berries now are gone From holly and cotoneaster Around the house. The flakes fly! - faster Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster...
Why go the east road now? . . . That way a youth went on a morrow After mirth, and he brought back sorrow Painted upon his brow Why go the east road now?
Not far from Mellstock - so tradition saith - Where barrows, bulging as they bosoms were Of Multimammia stretched supinely there, Catch night and noon the tempest's wanton breath, ...
"O Lord, why grievest Thou? - Since Life has ceased to be Upon this globe, now cold As lunar land and sea, And humankind, and fowl, and fur Are gone eternally,...
"Instigator of the ruin - Whichsoever thou mayst be Of the masterful of Europe That contrived our misery - Hear the wormwood-worded greeting From each city, shore, and lea Of thy victims:...
You were here at his young beginning, You are not here at his aged end; Off he coaxed you from Life's mad spinning, Lest you should see his form extend Shivering, sighing, Slowly dying,...
"O England, may God punish thee!" - Is it that Teuton genius flowers Only to breathe malignity Upon its friend of earlier hours? - We have eaten your bread, you have eaten ours,...
At nine in the morning there passed a church, At ten there passed me by the sea, At twelve a town of smoke and smirch, At two a forest of oak and birch, And then, on a platform, she: ...
I thought and thought of thy crass clanging town To folly, till convinced such dreams were ill, I held my heart in bond, and tethered down Fancy to where I was, by force of will. ...
Sweet cyder is a great thing, A great thing to me, Spinning down to Weymouth town By Ridgway thirstily, And maid and mistress summoning Who tend the hostelry: O cyder is a great thing,...
Long have I framed weak phantasies of Thee, O Willer masked and dumb! Who makest Life become, - As though by labouring all-unknowingly, Like one whom reveries numb. ...
At the shiver of morning, a little before the false dawn, The moon was at the window-square, Deedily brooding in deformed decay - The curve hewn off her cheek as by an adze;...
How great my grief, my joys how few, Since first it was my fate to know thee! - Have the slow years not brought to view How great my grief, my joys how few, Nor memory shaped old times anew,...
I found her out there On a slope few see, That falls westwardly To the salt-edged air, Where the ocean breaks On the purple strand, And the hurricane shakes The solid land. ...
Plunging and labouring on in a tide of visions, Dolorous and dear, Forward I pushed my way as amid waste waters Stretching around, Through whose eddies there glimmered the customed landscape...