Mourn not, my friends, that we are growing old:

I batter with the thicknessOf the swathing, blinding shroud:Oh, let me see thy face,The only perfect graceThat thou canst show thy child.0 father, being-giver,Take off the sickness-cloud;Saviour, my life deliverFrom this dull body-shroud:Till I can see thy faceI am not full of grace,I am not reconciled.

In the nightWhen the moonSets the tuneTo the woods!And the broodsAll run out,Frisk about,Go and come,Beat the drum-Here in groups,There in troops!Now there’s one!Now it’s gone!There are none!And now they are dancing like chaff!I look, and I laugh,But sit by my door, and keep to my habit-A wise, respectable, clean-furred old rabbit!Now I’m going,Business calls…

To-night the planets and the starsWill glimmer through my window-barsBut will not shine upon my soul!For I shall lie as deadThough yet I am above the ground;All passionless, with scarce a breath,With hands of rest and eyes of death,I shall be carried swiftly round.Or if my life should breakThe idle night with doubtful gleams,Through mossy…

Plunge into yonder gulf?A golden beaker I fling in it-there!The black mouth swallows it like a wolf!Who brings me the cup again, whoever,It is his own-he may keep it for ever!’‘Tis the king who speaks. He flings from the browOf the cliff, that, rugged and steep,Hangs out o’er the endless sea below,The cup in the…

But bar not winds upon their way,Nor quench the scent of new-mown hayIn depth of summer nights.And here and there an open spot,Still bare to light and dark,With grass receives the wanderer hot;There trees are growing, houses not-They call the place a park.Soft creatures, with ungentle guides,God’s sheep from hill and plain,Flow thitherward in fitful…