For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I’ll wrap me o’er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
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Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharfIn cluster; then a moulder’d church; and higherA long street climbs to one tall-tower’d mill;And high in heaven behind it a gray downWith Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,By autumn nutters haunted, flourishesGreen in a cuplike hollow of the down.Here on this beach a hundred years ago,Three children of three…
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
No more by thee my steps shall be,For ever and for ever.Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,A rivulet then a river:Nowhere by thee my steps shall beFor ever and for ever.But here will sigh thine alder treeAnd here thine aspen shiver;And here by thee will hum the bee,For ever and for ever.A thousand suns…
O true and tried, so well and long,
In that it is thy marriage dayIs music more than any song.Nor have I felt so much of blissSince first he told me that he lovedA daughter of our house; nor provedSince that dark day a day like this;Tho’ I since then have number’d o’erSome thrice three years: they went and came,Remade the blood and…
PART I
Long fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the wold and meet the sky;And thro’ the field the road runs byTo many-tower’d Camelot;And up and down the people go,Gazing where the lilies blowRound an island there below,The island of Shalott.Willows whiten, aspens quiver,Little breezes dusk and shiverThro’ the wave that runs for everBy the island…
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
From fringes of the faded eve,O, happy planet, eastward go:Till over thy dark shoulder glowThy silver sister world, and riseTo glass herself in dewey eyesThat watch me from the glen below.Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,Dip forward under starry light,And move me to my marriage-morn,And round again to happy night.
A still small voice spake unto me,
Were it not better not to be?’Then to the still small voice I said;‘Let me not cast in endless shadeWhat is so wonderfully made.’To which the voice did urge reply;‘To-day I saw the dragon-flyCome from the wells where he did lie.‘An inner impulse rent the veilOf his old husk: from head to tailCame out clear…