Though, if you ask her name, she says ELISE, Being plain ELIZABETH, e'en let it pass, And own that, if her aspirates take their ease, She ever makes a point, in washing glass,...
Take any station, pavement, circus, corner, Where men their styles of print may call or choose, And there - ten times more on it than JACK HORNER - There shall you find him swathed in sheets of news....
St. Margaret's bells, Quiring their innocent, old-world canticles, Sing in the storied air, All rosy-and-golden, as with memories Of woods at evensong, and sands and seas...
Forth from the dust and din, The crush, the heat, the many-spotted glare, The odour and sense of life and lust aflare, The wrangle and jangle of unrests, Let us take horse, Dear Heart, take horse and win -...
Down through the ancient Strand The spirit of October, mild and boon And sauntering, takes his way This golden end of afternoon, As though the corn stood yellow in all the land,...
Out of the poisonous East, Over a continent of blight, Like a maleficent Influence released From the most squalid cellarage of hell, The Wind-Fiend, the abominable -...
Spring winds that blow As over leagues of myrtle-blooms and may; Bevies of spring clouds trooping slow, Like matrons heavy bosomed and aglow With the mild and placid pride of increase! Nay,...
In the waste hour Between to-day and yesterday We watched, while on my arm - Living flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone - Dabbled in sweat the sacred head...
Not to the staring Day, For all the importunate questionings he pursues In his big, violent voice, Shall those mild things of bulk and multitude, The Trees - God's sentinels...
O, have you blessed, behind the stars, The blue sheen in the skies, When June the roses round her calls? - Then do you know the light that falls From her beloved eyes. ...
On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day, A ghost that told of you - A ghost of low replies...
These to the glory and praise of the green land That bred my women, and that holds my dead, ENGLAND, and with her the strong broods that stand Wherever her fighting lines are thrust or spread!...
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;...
The gods are dead? Perhaps they are! Who knows? Living at least in Lempriere undeleted, The wise, the fair, the awful, the jocose, Are one and all, I like to think, retreated...