Thou cricket, that at dusk in the… all that, alack! my sickly garden… silverest the brown air with thy l… now eve is sharp, I, hearkening, d… the home my exiled heart hath some…

Black on the depths of blackest sk… whence even the levin seems withdr… the cities threaten: burning eyes ask what dread hand hath slain the…

The winter eve is clear and chill: the world of air is folded still; the quiet hour expects the moon; and yon my home awaits me soon behind the panes that come and go

An hour’s respite; once more the h… the thunderwheels of passion thro’… distantly musical, vaporously agle… about my old pain leave nought but a soft enchantment, ves…

Dies Dominica! the sunshine burns strong incense on the breathing fi… lucid, intense, all colour towards… that souls of flowers on the air a… What claustral joy to-day is on th…

Droop’st thou and fail’st? but the… winds of the region, free, they sh… unurged, unguerdon’d: hast thou th… to be with them and trail’st a use… Self-pity hath thee in her clingin…

Of old, on her terrace at evening —not here—in some long-gone kingdo… oh, folded close to her breast! Our gaze dwelt wide on the blackne… (was it trees? or a shadowy passio…

I SAID, This misery must end: Shall I, that am a man and know that sky and wind are yet my frien… sit huddled under any blow? so speaking left the dismal room

The droning tram swings westward:… the wire sings overhead, and chill midwinter draughts rattle the glas… that shows the dusking way I pass to yon four turreted square tower

Sweet silence after bells! deep in the enamour’d ear soft incantation dwells. Filling the rapt still sphere a liquid crystal swims,

Autumn: the year breathes dully to… beside its dying sacrificial fire; the dim world’s middle-age of vain… is strangely troubled, waiting for… that speaks the winter’s welcome m…

The tuberose thickens the air: a s… lies close on open’d calyx and sli… thro’ all the garden bosom-bound b… dense night that hangs, her own pe… no star: and heaven and earth, see…

Spring-ripple of green along the w… keen plash of aery waves that play… and in my heart thy dreamy smart, O distant day! Oh whisper hidden in the spring

Sweet days of breaking light, or yet the shadowy might and blaze of starry strife possess’d my life; sweet dawn of Beauty’s day,

Twice now that lucid fiction of th… dissolves, the sphere that winter’… still-charm’d to glass the sad met… and futile ages of the suffering r… what, in its halt, the weary mood…