Me, O Quintilian, may you not forgive
Before from labour I make haste to live?
Some burn to gather wealth, lay hands on rule,
Or with white statues fill the atrium full.
The talking hearth, the rafters sweet with smoke,
Live fountains and rough grass, my line invoke:
A sturdy slave, not too learned wife,
Nights filled with slumber, and a quiet life.
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For the long nights you lay awake
For your most comfortable handThat led me through the uneven land:For all the story-books you read:For all the pains you comforted:For all you pitied, all you bore,In sad and happy days of yore:-My second Mother, my first Wife,The angel of my infant life-From the sick child, now well and old,Take, nurse, the little book you…
With half a heart I wander here
A brother yet— though young in years,An elder brother, I.You speak another tongue than mine,Though both were English born.I towards the night of time decline,You mount into the morn.You shall grow great and strong and free,But age must still decay:To-morrow for the States— for me,England and Yesterday.
As from the house your mother sees
So you may see, if you will lookThrough the windows of this book,Another child, far, far away,And in another garden, play.But do not think you can at all,By knocking on the window, callThat child to hear you. He intentIs all on his play-business bent.He does not hear; he will not look,Nor yet be lured out…
The sun is not a-bed, when I
Still round the earth his way he takes,And morning after morning makes.While here at home, in shining day,We round the sunny garden play,Each little Indian sleepy-headIs being kissed and put to bed.And when at eve I rise from tea,Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea;And all the children in the westAre getting up and being dressed.
YOU have been far, and I
Since last, in foul or fairAn impecunious pair,Below this northern skyOf ours, we met.Now winter night shall seeAgain us two,While howls the tempest higher,Sit warmly by the fireAnd dream and plan, as weWere wont to do.And, hand in hand, at largeOur thoughts shall walkWhile storm and gusty rain,Again and yet again,Shall drive their noisy chargeAcross…
When I was down beside the sea
To dig the sandy shore.My holes were empty like a cup.In every hole the sea came up,Till it could come no more.