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…

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…

Friend, though thy soul should bur… Thoughts were not meant for strife… He that sees clear is gentlest of… And that’s not truth that hath the… The whole world’s thought shall no…

In the silent depth of space, Immeasurably old, immeasurably far… Glittering with a silver flame Through eternity, Rolls a great and burning star,

From this windy bridge at rest, In some former curious hour, We have watched the city’s hue, All along the orange west, Cupola and pointed tower,

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…

Now hath the summer reached her go… And, lost amid her corn-fields, br… Scarcely perceives from her divine… How near, how swift, the inevitabl… Still, still, she smiles, though f…

Now the creeping nets of sleep Stretch about and gather nigh, And the midnight dim and deep Like a spirit passes by, Trailing from her crystal dress

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…

Over the dripping roofs and sunk s… The bells are ringing loud and str… The shout of children dins upon mi… Shrilly, and like a flight of silv… Showers the sweet gossip of the B…

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…

Along the narrow sandy height I watch them swiftly come and go, Or round the leafless wood, Like flurries of wind-driven snow, Revolving in perpetual flight,

With what doubting eyes, oh sparro… Thou regardest me, Underneath yon spray of yarrow, Dipping cautiously. Fear me not, oh little sparrow,

To the distance! Ah, the distance… Blue and broad and dim! Peace is not in burgh or meadow, But beyond the rim. Aye, beyond it, far beyond it;