How dear the sky has been above th… Small treasures of this sky that w… Seen weak through prison—bars from… Eyed with a painful prayer upon G… To save, and tears which stayed al…

What place so strange,—though unre… With unimaginable fires arise At the earth’s end,—what passion o… Like frost—bound fire—girt scenes… Lo! this is none but I this hour;…

SHE knew it not:—most perfect pai… To learn: this too she knew not.… For me, calm hers, as from the fir… 'Twas but another bubble burst Upon the curdling draught of life,…

'Twixt those twin worlds,—the worl… No dream to warn,—the tidal world… Which the earth’s sea, as the eart… Shelley, Song’s orient sun, to br… Rose from this couch that morn. A…

THE head and hands of murdered C… Above his seat high in the Forum… Drew jeers and burning tears. Whe… Of a swift—mounted ladder, all agl… Fluvia, Mark Antony’s shameless w…

I KNOW not how it is, I have th… In lazy moods, of seeking no excus… But holding that man’s ease must b… Of man’s philosophy, I give the s… To thought, and lounge at shuffle…

O RUFF—EMBASTIONED vast El… Bush to these bushel—bellied casks… Home—growth, 'tis true, but rank a… What would we with such skittle—pl… Say, must we watch these brawlers’…

(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…

This is her picture as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. I gaze until she seems to stir,—

TURN not the prophet’s page, O… All that Thou hast to suffer, and… Not yet Thine hour of knowledge.… The sorrows that Thy manhood’s lo… And dire acquaintance of Thy grie…

I said: “Nay, pluck not,—let the… Even as thou sayest, it is sweet a… But let it ripen still. The tree’… Sees in the stream its own fecundi… And bides the day of fulness. Sha…

By what word’s power, the key of p… Shall I the difficult deeps of Lo… Till parted waves of Song yield u… Even as that sea which Israel cro… For lo! in some poor rhythmic peri…

I PLUCKED a honeysuckle where The hedge on high is quick with th… And climbing for the prize, was to… And fouled my feet in quag—water; And by the thorns and by the wind