Mother of balms and soothings mani… Quiet-breathed night whose broodin… To whom the voices of all rest are… And those few stars whose scattere… Far off beyond the westward hills…

Along the waste, a great way off,… Like tall slim priests of storm, s… The low long strip of dolorous red… The under west, where wet winds mo… The cornfields all are brown, and…

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,…

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,

What do poets want with gold, Cringing slaves and cushioned ease… Are not crusts and garments old Better for their souls than these? Gold is but the juggling rod

Out of the heart of the city begot… Of the labour of men and their man… Whose souls, that were sprung from… No longer regard or remember her w… Whose hearts in the furnace of car…

It fell on a day I was happy, And the winds, the concave sky, The flowers and the beasts in the… Seemed happy even as I; And I stretched my hands to the m…

I love the warm bare earth and all That works and dreams thereon: I love the seasons yet to fall: I love the ages gone, The valleys with the sheeted grain…

All day upon the garden bright The suns shines strong, But in my heart there is no light, Or any song. Voices of merry life go by,

Heavy with haze that merges and me… Into the measureless depth on eith… The full day rests upon the lumino… In one long noon of golden reverie… Now hath the harvest come and gone…

Once idly in his hall king Olave… Pondering, and with his dagger whi… And one draw near to him with aust… Saying ‘To-morrow is Monday,’ and… The king said nothing, but held fo…

A moment the wild swallows like a… Of withered gust-caught leaves, se… Toss in the windrack up the mutter… The leaves hang still. Above the… The hurrying centres of the storm…

Now being on the eve of death, dis… From every mortal hope and earthly… I questioned how my soul might bes… This hand, and this still wakeful… In the brief hours yet left me for…

The point is turned; the twilight… The wheeling stream, the soft rece… And on our ears from deep among th… Breaks now the rapid’s sudden quic… Ah yet the same, or have they chan…

How deep the April night is in it… The hopeful, solemn, many-murmured… The earth lies hushed with expecta… Above the world’s dark border burn… Yellow and large; from forest floo…