Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time,

Star and coronal and bell April underfoot renews, And the hope of man as well Flowers among the morning dews. Now the old come out to look,

Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung. Life, to be sure,

The stinging nettle only Will still be found to stand: The numberless, the lonely, The thronger of the land, The leaf that hurts the hand.

Could man be drunk for ever With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober

“Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun.” In valleys of springs and rivers,

Leave your home behind, lad, And reach your friends your hand, And go, and luck go with you While Ludlow tower shall stand. Oh, come you home of Sunday

Say, lad, have you things to do? Quick then, while your day’s at pr… Quick, and if 'tis work for two, Here am I man: now’s your time. Send me now, and I shall go;

If in that Syrian garden, ages sl… You sleep, and know not you are de… Nor even in dreams behold how dark… Ascends in smoke and fire by day a… The hate you died to quench and co…

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he,

O why do you walk through the fiel… Missing so much and so much? O fat white woman whom nobody shoo… Why do you walk through the fields… When the grass is soft as the brea…

When I watch the living meet And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the str… Where I lodge a little while, If the heats of hate and lust

Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me

Tell me not here, it needs not say… What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainte…

On your midnight pallet lying, Listen, and undo the door: Lads that waste the light in sighi… In the dark should sigh no more; Night should ease a lover’s sorrow…