Far above us where a jay Screams his matins to the day, Capped with gold and amethyst, Like a vapor from the forge Of a giant somewhere hid,

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,

’Tis a land where no hurricane fal… But the infinite azure regards Its waters for ever, its walls Of granite, its limitless swards; Where the fens to their innermost…

How the returning days, one after… Came ever in their rhythmic round,… Yet from each looped robe for ever… Some new thing falls. Happy is he Who fronts them without fear, and…

To-night the very horses springing… Toss gold from whitened nostrils.… The streets that narrow to the wes… Like rows of golden palaces; and h… From all the crowded chimneys towe…

By silent forest and field and mos… We come from the wooden hill, and… We labour, and sing sweet songs, b… For our mother, the sea, is callin… We have heard her calling us many…

From where I sit, I see the stars… And down the chilly floor The moon between the frozen bars Is glimmering dim and hoar. Without in many a peakèd mound

The King’s son walks in the garde… Oh, the maiden’s heart is merry! He little knows for his toil and c… That the bride is gone and the bow… Put on garments of white, my maide…

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…

The old grey year is near his term… And now with backward eye and soft… Awakens to a golden dream of youth… A second childhood lovely and most… And the smooth hour about his mist…

A single dreary elm, that stands b… The sombre forest and the wan-lit… Halves with its slim gray stem and… The shadowed point. Beyond it wit… Bold brows of pine-topped granite…

By the Nile, the sacred river, I can see the captive hordes, Strain beneath the lash and quiver At the long papyrus cords, While in granite rapt and solemn,

I stand at noon upon the heated fl… At the bleached crossing of two st… With brain scarce conscious now th… Of noonday passengers is done. Tw… Stand at an open doorway piled wit…

Grief was my master yesternight; To-morrow I may grieve again; But now along the windy plain The clouds have taken flight. The sowers in the furrows go;