No wind there is that either pipes… The fields are cold and still; the… Is covered with a blue-gray sheet Of motionless cloud; and at my fee… The river, curling softly by,

Or whether sad or joyous be her ho… Yet ever is she good and ever fair… If she be glad, ’tis like a child’… Who claps her hands above a heap o… And if she’s sad, it is no cloud t…

No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith… So rich as the arms of my love can… No gems with a lovelier lustre fra… Than her eyes, when they answer me… Dear lady of love, be kind to me

O doubts, dull passions, and base… That harassed and oppressed the da… Ye poor remorses and vain tears, That shook this house of clay: All heaven to the western bars

Oh city, whom grey stormy hands ha… With restless drift, scarce broken… Out of the dark thy windows dim an… Gleam red across the storm. Sound… Save evermore the fierce wind’s sw…

Methought I journeyed along ways… Throughout a happy land where stri… And life went by me flowing like a… Past sandy eyots where the shiftin… A land where beauty dwelt supreme,…

Comfort the sorrowful with watchfu… In silence, for the tongue cannot… Vex not his wounds with rhetoric,… Worn truths, that are but maddenin… To him whose grief outmasters all…

The earth is the cup of the sun, That he filleth at morning with wi… With the warm, strong wine of his… From the vintage of gold and of li… Fills it, and makes it divine.

AEons ago ye were, Before the struggling changeful ra… Wrought into being, ere the tragic… Of human toil and deep desire bega… So shall ye still remain,

To-day the world is wide and fair With sunny fields of lucid air, And waters dancing everywhere; The snow is almost gone; The noon is builded high with ligh…

Scarcely a breath about the rocky… Moved, but the growing tide from v… Heaving salt fragrance on the midn… Climbed with a murmurous and fitfu… A hoary mist rose up and slowly sh…

All day between high-curded clouds… Shone down like summer on the stea… The long, bright icicles in dwindl… Dripped from the murmuring eaves t… They fell. As if the spring had n…

Hear me, Brother, gently met; Just a little, turn, not yet, Thou shalt laugh, and soon forget: Now the midnight draweth near. I have little more to tell;

Mother, to whose valiant will Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book afield,

‘Grotesque!’ we said, the moment w… For there he stood, supreme in his… With short ears close together and… Planted irregularly: first we trie… With jokes, but they were lost; we…