a dead harvest [in kensington gardens] Along the graceless grass of town / They rake the rows of red and brown, / Dead leaves, unlike the rows of hay, / Delicate, neither gold nor grey, / Raked long ago english
a letter from a girl to her own old age Listen, and when thy hand this paper presses, / O time-worn woman, think of her who blesses / What thy thin fingers touch, with her caresses. / O mother, for the english
a poet of one mood in all my lays A poet of one mood in all my lays, / Ranging all life to sing one only love, / Like a west wind across the world I move, / Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wil english
a poet’s sonnet If I should quit thee, sacrifice, forswear, / To what, my art, shall I give thee in keeping? / To the long winds of heaven? Shall these come sweeping / My songs f english
a poet’s wife I saw a tract of ocean locked in-land / Within a field’s embrace— / The very sea! Afar it fled the strand / And gave the seasons chase, / And met the night alone, t english
after a parting Farewell has long been said; I have forgone thee; / I never name thee even. / But how shall I learn virtues and yet shun thee? / For thou art so near Heaven / That english
an unmarked festival There’s a feast undated yet: / Both our true lives hold it fast,— / The first day we ever met. / What a great day came and passed! / —Unknown then, but known at las english
at night Home, home from the horizon far and clear, / Hither the soft wings sweep; / Flocks of the memories of the day draw near / The dovecote doors of sleep. / O which are english
builders of ruins We build with strength the deep tower-wall / That shall be shattered thus and thus. / And fair and great are court and hall, / But how fair—this is not for us, / Wh english
chimes Brief, on a flying night, / From the shaken tower, / A flock of bells take flight, / And go with the hour. / Like birds from the cote to the gales, / Abrupt—O hark! / A english
cradle-song at twilight The child not yet is lulled to rest. / Too young a nurse, the slender Night / So laxly holds him to her breast / That throbs with flight. / He plays with her and wi english
future poetry No new delights to our desire / The singers of the past can yield. / I lift mine eyes to hill and field, / And see in them your yet dumb lyre, / Poets unborn and un english
i touched the heart that loved me as a player I touched the heart that loved me as a player / Touches a lyre; content with my poor skill / No touch save mine knew my beloved (and still / I thought at times: I english
in autumn The leaves are many under my feet, / And drift one way. / Their scent of death is weary and sweet. / A flight of them is in the grey / Where sky and forest meet. / Th english
in early spring O Spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise / In the young children’s eyes. / But I have learnt the years, and know the yet / Leaf-folded violet. / Mine ear, awa english
in february Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn, / Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers, / And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers. / A poet’s face asleep i english
meditation Rorate Cœli desuper, et nubes pluant Justum. / Aperiatur Terra, et germinet Salvatorem. / No sudden thing of glory and fear / Was the Lord’s coming; but the dear / english
my fair, no beauty of thine will last My Fair, no beauty of thine will last / Save in my love’s eternity. / Thy smiles, that light thee fitfully, / Are lost for ever—their moment past— / Except the few english
my heart shall be thy garden My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own, / Into thy garden; thine be happy hours / Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers, / From root to crowning petal english
november blue O, Heavenly colour! London town / Has blurred it from her skies; / And hooded in an earthly brown, / Unheaven’d the city lies. / No longer standard-like this hue / Ab english
parentage “When Augustus Cæsar legislated against the unmarried citizens of Rome, he declared them to be, in some sort, slayers of the people.” / Ah no, not these! / Thes english
parted Farewell to one now silenced quite, / Sent out of hearing, out of sight,— / My friend of friends, whom I shall miss. / He is not banished, though, for this,— / Nor english
regrets As, when the seaward ebbing tide doth pour / Out by the low sand spaces, / The parting waves slip back to clasp the shore / With lingering embraces,— / So in the ti english
renouncement I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, / I shun the thought that lurks in all delight— / The thought of thee—and in the blue Heaven’s height, / And in t english
san lorenzo giustiniani’s mother I had not seen my son’s dear face / (He chose the cloister by God’s grace) / Since it had come to full flower-time. / I hardly guessed at its perfect prime, / That english
song As the inhastening tide doth roll, / Dear and desired, along the whole / Wide shining strand, and floods the caves, / Your love comes filling with happy waves / The english
song of the day to the night THE POET SINGS TO HIS POET / From dawn to dusk, and from dusk to dawn, / We two are sundered always, sweet. / A few stars shake o’er the rocky lawn / And the cold s english
song of the night at daybreak All my stars forsake me, / And the dawn-winds shake me. / Where shall I betake me? / Whither shall I run / Till the set of sun, / Till the day be done? / To the mountai english
song of the spring to the summer THE POET SINGS TO HER POET / O poet of the time to be, / My conqueror, I began for thee. / Enter into thy poet’s pain, / And take the riches of the rain, / And make t english
spring on the alban hills O’er the Campagna it is dim warm weather; / The Spring comes with a full heart silently, / And many thoughts; a faint flash of the sea / Divides two mists; straig english
the fold Behold, / The time is now! Bring back, bring back / Thy flocks of fancies, wild of whim. / Oh lead them from the mountain-track— / Thy frolic thoughts untold. / Oh br english
the lady poverty The Lady Poverty was fair: / But she has lost her looks of late, / With change of times and change of air. / Ah slattern, she neglects her hair, / Her gown, her sho english
the love of narcissus Like him who met his own eyes in the river, / The poet trembles at his own long gaze / That meets him through the changing nights and days / From out great Nature english
the modern mother Oh what a kiss / With filial passion overcharged is this! / To this misgiving breast / The child runs, as a child ne’er ran to rest / Upon the light heart and the u english
the modern poet A SONG OF DERIVATIONS / I come from nothing; but from where / Come the undying thoughts I bear? / Down, through long links of death and birth, / From the past poets english
the neophyte Who knows what days I answer for to-day: / Giving the bud I give the flower. I bow / This yet unfaded and a faded brow; / Bending these knees and feeble knees, I english
the poet sings to her poet THE MOON TO THE SUN / As the full moon shining there / To the sun that lighteth her / Am I unto thee for ever, / O my secret glory-giver! / O my light, I am dark but english
the poet to his childhood In my thought I see you stand with a path on either hand, / —Hills that look into the sun, and there a river’d meadow-land. / And your lost voice with the thing english
the poet to nature I have no secrets from thee, lyre sublime, / My lyre whereof I make my melody. / I sing one way like the west wind through thee, / With my whole heart, and hear t english
the roaring frost A flock of winds came winging from the North, / Strong birds with fighting pinions driving forth / With a resounding call! / Where will they close their wings and english
the shepherdess She walks—the lady of my delight— / A shepherdess of sheep. / Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; / She guards them from the steep. / She feeds them on t english
the two poets Whose is the speech / That moves the voices of this lonely beech? / Out of the long West did this wild wind come— / Oh strong and silent! And the tree was dumb, / R english
thoughts in separation We never meet; yet we meet day by day / Upon those hills of life, dim and immense: / The good we love, and sleep—our innocence. / O hills of life, high hills! And english
to a daisy Slight as thou art, thou art enough to hide, / Like all created things, secrets from me, / And stand a barrier to eternity. / And I, how can I praise thee well an english
to a lost melody Thou art not dead, O sweet lost melody, / Sung beyond memory, / When golden to the winds this world of ours / Waved wild with boundless flowers; / Sung in some past english
to a poet Thou who singest through the earth, / All the earth’s wild creatures fly thee, / Everywhere thou marrest mirth. / Dumbly they defy thee. / There is something they d english
to one poem in a silent time Who looked for thee, thou little song of mine? / This winter of a silent poet’s heart / Is suddenly sweet with thee, but what thou art, / Mid-winter flower, I wou english
to the beloved Oh, not more subtly silence strays / Amongst the winds, between the voices, / Mingling alike with pensive lays, / And with the music that rejoices, / Than thou art english
to the beloved dead—a lament Beloved, thou art like a tune that idle fingers / Play on a window-pane. / The time is there, the form of music lingers; / But O thou sweetest strain, / Where is th english
unto us a son is given Given, not lent, / And not withdrawn—once sent— / This Infant of mankind, this One, / Is still the little welcome Son. / New every year, / New-born and newly dear, / He english
veneration of images Thou man, first-comer, whose wide arms entreat, / Gather, clasp, welcome, bind, / Lack, or remember! whose warm pulses beat / With love of thine own kind; / Unlifte english
veni creator So humble things Thou hast borne for us, O God, / Left’st Thou a path of lowliness untrod? / Yes, one, till now; another Olive-Garden. / For we endure the tender english
via, et veritas, et vita “You never attained to Him?” “If to attain / Be to abide, then that may be.” / “Endless the way, followed with how much pain!” / “The way was He.” english
west wind in winter Another day awakes. And who— / Changing the world—is this? / He comes at whiles, the Winter through, / West Wind! I would not miss / His sudden tryst: the long, the english
your own fair youth, you care so little for it Your own fair youth, you care so little for it, / Smiling towards Heaven, you would not stay the advances / Of time and change upon your happiest fancies. / I kee english
‘soeur monique’ A RONDEAU BY COUPERIN / Quiet form of silent nun, / What has given you to my inward eyes? / What has marked you, unknown one, / In the throngs of centuries / That min english
“i am the way” Thou art the Way. / Hadst Thou been nothing but the goal, / I cannot say / If Thou hadst ever met my soul. / I cannot see— / I, child of process—if there lies / An end english
“why wilt thou chide?” Why wilt thou chide, / Who hast attained to be denied? / Oh learn, above / All price is my refusal, Love. / My sacred Nay / Was never cheapened by the way. / Thy single english