War shook the land where Levi dwe… And fired the dismal wrath he felt… That such a doom was ever wrought As his, to toil while others fough… To toil, to dream—and still to dre…

The miller’s wife had waited long, The tea was cold, the fire was dea… And there might yet be nothing wro… In how he went and what he said: “There are no millers any more,”

Ten years together without yet a c… They seek each other’s eyes at int… Of gratefulness to firelight and f… For love’s obliteration of the cro… Serenely and perennially endowed

As long as Fame’s imperious music… Will poets mock it with crowned wo… And haggard men will clamber to be… As long as Glory weighs itself in… Drink to the splendor of the unful…

“No, Mary, there was nothing—not… Nothing, and always nothing. Go a… Yourself, and he may listen—or at… Look up at you, and let you see hi… I might as well have been the soun…

And there we were together again— Together again, we three: Morgan, Fingal, fiddle, and all, They had come for the night with m… The spirit of joy was in Morgan’s…

We thrill too strangely at the mas… We shrink too sadly from the large… Which for its own completeness agi… And undetermines us; we do not fee… We dare not feel it yet—the splend…

Never was there a man much uglier In eyes of other women, or more gr… “The Lord has filled her chalice… So let us pray she’s a philosopher… They said; and there was more they…

Yes, you have it; I can see. Beautiful?... Dear, look at me! Look and let my shame confess Triumph after weariness. Beautiful? Ah, yes.

Aunt Imogen was coming, and there… The children—Jane, Sylvester, and… Were eyes and ears; for there was… Aunt Imogen to them in the whole… And she was in it only for four we…

“There, but for the grace of God,… There is a question that I ask, And ask again: What hunger was half-hidden by the… That he wore then?

When he, who is the unforgiven, Beheld her first, he found her fai… No promise ever dreamt in heaven Could have lured him anywhere That would have nbeen away from th…

If ever I am old, and all alone, I shall have killed one grief, at… For then, thank God, I shall not… Much longer for the sheaves that… The devil only knows what I have…

Gawaine, aware again of Lancelot In the King’s garden, coughed and… Whereat he turned and stood with f… And weary-waiting eyes, cold and h… Hard eyes, where doubts at war wit…

I did not think that I should fin… When I came back again; but there… As in the days they dreamed of whe… Was in their cheeks and women call… Be sure, they met me with an ancie…