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. ...
The train draws forth from the station-yard, And with it carries me. I rise, and stretch out, and regard The platform left, and see An airy slim blue form there standing, And know that it is she. ...
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?...
In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy, And the roof-lamp's oily flame Played down on his listless form and face, Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going, Or whence he came. ...
I wayfared at the nadir of the sun Where populations meet, though seen of none; And millions seemed to sigh around As though their haunts were nigh around,...
We stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a few leaves lay on the starving sod, They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. ...
When the wasting embers redden the chimney-breast, And Life's bare pathway looms like a desert track to me, And from hall and parlour the living have gone to their rest,...
"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,...
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...
I dreamt that people from the Land of Chimes Arrived one autumn morning with their bells, To hoist them on the towers and citadels Of my own country, that the musical rhymes ...
The rain imprinted the step's wet shine With target-circles that quivered and crossed As I was leaving this porch of mine; When from within there swelled and paused A song's sweet note;...
The trees fret fitfully and twist, Shutters rattle and carpets heave, Slime is the dust of yestereve, And in the streaming mist Fishes might seem to fin a passage if they list.
The swallows flew in the curves of an eight Above the river-gleam In the wet June's last beam: Like little crossbows animate The swallows flew in the curves of an eight Above the river-gleam. ...