White in the moon the long road li… The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road li… That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gu…

The winds out of the west land blo… My friends have breathed them ther… Warm with the blood of lads I kno… Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled th…

The mill-stream, now that noises c… Is all that does not hold its peac… Under the bridge it murmurs by, And here are night and hell and I… Who made the world I cannot tell;

The rain, it streams on stone and… The boot clings to the clay. Since all is done that’s due and r… Let’s home; and now, my lad, good-… For I must turn away.

When I would muse in boyhood The wild green woods among, And nurse resolves and fancies Because the world was young, It was not foes to conquer,

Ho, everyone that thirsteth And hath the price to give, Come to the stolen waters, Drink and your soul shall live. Come to the stolen waters,

The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. “I shall not vex you with my face

When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, “Another night, another day. ”When shall this slough of sense b…

Oh, see how thick the goldcup flow… Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours That never are told again. Oh may I squire you round the mea…

Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than the… If in the breathless night I too Shiver now, 'tis nothing new. More than I, if truth were told,

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…

'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’…

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

Oh stay at home, my lad, and ploug… The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their dr… And all about the idle hill Shepherd your sheep with me.

Home is the sailor, home from sea: Her far-borne canvas furled The ship pours shining on the quay The plunder of the world. Home is the hunter from the hill: