Sleep ‘s no softer: it proceedsOn through lawns, on through meads,On and on, whate’er befall,Meandering and musical,Though the niggard pasturageBears not on its shaven ledgeAught but weeds and waving grassesTo view the river as it passes,Save here and there a scanty patchOf primroses too faint to catchA weary bee…. And scarce it pushesIts gentle way…
New Zealand scenery.]I.I.What’s become of WaringSince he gave us all the slip,Chose land-travel or seafaring,Boots and chest or staff and scrip,Rather than pace up and downAny longer London town?II.Who’d have guessed it from his lipOr his brow’s accustomed bearing,On the night he thus took shipOr started landward?—little caringFor us, it seems, who supped together(Friends of…
Is she not pure gold, my mistress?Holds earth aught—speak truth—above her?Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,And this last fairest tress of all,So fair, see, ere I let it fall?II.Because, you spend your lives in praising;To praise, you search the wide world over:Then why not witness, calmly gazing,If earth holds aught—speak truth—above her?Above this…
It is a lie—their Priests, their Pope,Their Saints, their … all they fear or hopeAre lies, and lies—there! through my doorAnd ceiling, there! and walls and floor,There, lies, they lie—shall still be hurledTill spite of them I reach the world!II.You think Priests just and holy men!Before they put me in this denI was a human…
This path–how soft to pace!This May — what magic weather!Where is the loved one’s face?In a dream that loved one’s face meets mine,But the house is narrow, the place is bleakWhere, outside, rain and wind combineWith a furtive ear, if I strive to speak,With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek,With a malice that marks…
Nephews–sons mine . . . ah God, I know not! Well–She, men would have to be your mother once,Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was!What’s done is done, and she is dead beside,Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since,And as she died so must we die ourselves,And thence ye may perceive the world’s…
Water your damned flower-pots, do!If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence,God’s blood, would not mine kill you!What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming?Oh, that rose has prior claims—Needs its leaden vase filled brimming?Hell dry you up with its flames!II.At the meal we sit together:_Salve tibi!_ I must hearWise talk of the kind of weather,Sort of season, time of…
As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say—Shouldst love so truly, and couldst love me stillA whole long life through, had but love its will,Would death that leads me from thee brook delay.II.I have but to be by thee, and thy handWill never let mine go, nor heart withstandThe beating of my heart…
And the blue eyeDear and dewy,And that infantine fresh air of hers!II.To think men cannot take you, Sweet,And enfold you,Ay, and hold you,And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!IIIYou like us for a glance, you know- –For a word’s sakeOr a sword’s sake,All’s the same, whate’er the chance, you know.IV.And in turn we…
First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and rock!Gods of my birthplace, dæmons and heroes, honour to all!Then I name thee, claim thee for our patron, co-equal in praiseAy, with Zeus the Defender, with Her of the ægis and spear!Also, ye of the bow and the buskin, praised be your peer,Now, henceforth, and…
