Space and dread and the dark, Over a livid stretch of sky Cloud-monsters crawling like a funeral train Of huge primeval presences Stooping beneath the weight Of some enormous, rudimentary grief;...
Fresh from his fastnesses Wholesome and spacious, The north wind, the mad huntsman, Halloos on his white hounds Over the grey, roaring Reaches and ridges,...
Midsummer midnight skies, Midsummer midnight influences and airs, The shining sensitive silver of the sea Touched with the strange-hued blazonings of dawn: And all so solemnly still I seem to hear...
Time and the Earth, The old Father and Mother, Their teeming accomplished, Their purpose fulfilled, Close with a smile For a moment of kindness Ere for the winter They settle to sleep. ...
O Time and Change, they range and range From sunshine round to thunder! They glance and go as the great winds blow, And the best of our dreams drive under: For Time and Change estrange, estrange,...
You played and sang a snatch of song, A song that all-too well we knew; But whither had flown the ancient wrong; And was it really I and you? O since the end of life's to live...
Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Crook And the rope of the Black Election, 'Tis the faith of the Fool that a race you rule Can never achieve perfection:...
When you wake in your crib, You, an inch of experience, Vaulted about With the wonder of darkness; Wailing and striving To reach from your feebleness...
The shadow of Dawn; Stillness and stars and over-mastering dreams Of Life and Death and Sleep; Heard over gleaming flats the old unchanging sound Of the old unchanging Sea.
When the wind storms by with a shout, and the stern sea-caves Exult in the tramp and the roar of onsetting waves, Then, then, it comes home to the heart that the top of life...
Trees and the menace of night; Then a long, lonely, leaden mere Backed by a desolate fell As by a spectral battlement; and then, Low-brooding, interpenetrating all,...
Here they trysted, here they strayed, In the leafage dewy and boon, Many a man and many a maid, And the morn was merry June: 'Death is fleet, Life is sweet,'...
What should the Trees, Midsummer-manifold, each one, Voluminous, a labyrinth of life, What should such things of bulk and multitude Yield of their huge, unutterable selves,...
What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England my own? With your glorious eyes austere, As the Lord were walking near, Whispering terrible things and dear...
Space and dread and the dark - Over a livid stretch of sky Cloud-monsters crawling, like a funeral train Of huge, primeval presences Stooping beneath the weight Of some enormous, rudimentary grief;...