The world is bright with beauty, a… Are filled with music; could we on… True ends from false, and lofty th… Could we but tear away the walls t… Our very elbows in life’s frosty w…

Oh deep-eyed brothers was there ev… Or is there now, or shall there so… Harbour or any rest for such as we… Lone thin-cheeked mariners, that a… Our whispering barks with such kee…

Oh earth, oh dewy mother, breathe… Something of all thy beauty and th… Us that are part of day, but most… Not strong like thee, but ever bur… With glooms and cares, things pale…

The sun looks over a little hill And floods the valley with gold– A torrent of gold; And the hither field is green and… Beyond it a cloud outrolled,

Long hours ago, while yet the morn… Nor sharp athirst had drunk the be… A reaper came, and swung his cradl… Around this stump, and, shearing s… Far round among the clover, ripe f…

Mad with love and laden With immortal pain, Pan pursued a maiden— Pan, the god—in vain. For when Pan had nearly

There came no change from week to… On all the land, but all one way, Like ghosts that cannot touch nor… Day followed day. Within the palace court the rounds

Slow figures in some live remorsel… The approaching days escapeless an… With mask and shroud impenetrably… Time, whose inexorable destinies Bear down upon us like impending s…

Oh night and sleep, Ye are so soft and deep, I am so weary, come ye soon to me. Oh hours that creep, With so much time to weep,

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…

O sun, shine hot on the river; For the ice is turning an ashen hu… And the still bright water is look… And the myriad streams are greetin… With a ballad of life to the giver…

The thoughts of all the maples who… When the sad landscape turns to co… Yet some for very ruth and sheer d… Hearing the northwind pipe the win… Have fired the hills with beaconin…

White are the far-off plains, and… The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height… And denser still the snow, A gathering weight on roof and tre…

The dew is gleaming in the grass, The morning hours are seven, And I am fain to watch you pass, Ye soft white clouds of heaven. Ye stray and gather, part and fold…

Long, long ago, it seems, this sum… That pale-browed April passed wit… Through the frore woods, and from… Woke the arbutus with her silver h… And now May, too, is fled,