'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock to… The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer’…

Now hollow fires burn out to black… And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your p… And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dr…

High the vanes of Shrewsbury glea… Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled cres… Cross the water east and west. The flag of morn in conqueror’s st…

The street sounds to the soldiers’… And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky’s so far,

When the eye of day is shut, And the stars deny their beams, And about the forest hut Blows the roaring wood of dreams, From deep clay, from desert rock,

Onward led the road again Through the sad uncoloured plain Under twilight brooding dim, And along the utmost rim Wall and rampart risen to sight

Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. And now the fancy passes by,

How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free,

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now—for a breath I tarry

On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in tro… His forest fleece the Wrekin heav… The gale, it plies the saplings do… And thick on Severn snow the leav… ‘Twould blow like this through hol…

Farewell to a name and a number Recalled again To darkness and silence and slumbe… In blood and pain. So ceases and turns to the thing

On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder

Wake: the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims, And the ship of sunrise burning Strands upon the eastern rims. Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,

When smoke stood up from Ludlow, And mist blew off from Teme, And blithe afield to ploughing Against the morning beam I strode beside my team,

The star-filled seas are smooth to… From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland l… The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise,