I: BLIND When first the shadows fell, like… And darkness spread before me, lik… I cried out for the sun, the earth… And beat the air, as madmen beat a…

Up from the South come the birds… Frightened away by the presence of… Back to the vale comes the verdure… Back to the forest the leaves that… Over the hillside the carpet of sp…

If it were in my dead Past’s powe… To let my Present bask In some lost pleasure for an hour, This is the boon I’d ask: Re-pedestal from out the dust

Methought a great wind swept acros… And all the toilers perished. The… Pale terror blanch the rosy face o… And careless eyes grow full of fea… The sounds of pleasure ceased; the…

Saw you the youth, with the face l… Refilling the glass, that foamed w… Heard you the words that fell down… ‘Lift not the glass: it holds sorr… He heeds not nor listens:

As in the long dead days marauding… Of Indians came from far Siberian… And drove the peaceful Aztecs fro… Despoiled their homes (but left th… So has the white man with the Ind…

Is the goal distant, and troubled… And the way long? And heavy your load? Then gird up your courage, and say… And keep going.

If all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, From sunny lands, and lands of col… Ah well! the harbor could not hold So many sails as there would be

There’s many a house of grandeur, With turret, tower and dome, That knows not peace or comfort, And does not prove a home. I do not ask for splendor

In the fair morning of his life, When his pure heart lay in his bre… Panting, with all that wild unrest To plunge into the great world’s s… That fills young hearts with mad d…

The harsh King—Winter—sat upon th… And reigned and ruled the earth ri… He locked the rivers, lakes, and a… “I am no puny, maudlin king,” quot… “But a stern monarch, born to rule…

MORTAL: “The night is cold, the hour is la… Who is it knocking at my door?” THE NEW YEAR: “I am Good Cheer.”

At Box Hill, Surrey A modern hour from London (as we… Into a silver thread the miles of… Between us and our goal), there is… Apart from city traffic, dust, and…

Some day, when the golden glory Of June is over the earth, And the birds are singing together In a wild, mad strain of mirth; When the skies are as clear and cl…

The God of the day has vanished, The light from the hills has fled, And the hand of an unseen artist Is painting the west all red. All threaded with gold and crimson…