#English
They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their… In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave,
Where river and ocean meet in a gr… Beyond the bar, where on the dunes… Above, one windmill stands forlorn… I will set my sail on a stormy day… That I have sought and never foun…
Exceeding sorrow Consumeth my sad heart! Because to-morrow We must depart, Now is exceeding sorrow
(For Arthur Symons) I was not sorrowful, I could not… And all my memories were put to sl… I watched the river grow more whit… All day till evening I watched it…
Oh, I would live in a dairy, And its Colin I would be, And many a rustic fairy Should churn the milk with me. Or the fields should be my pleasur…
Even now the fragrant darkness of… Had brushed my cheek; and once, in… Her hand upon my hand lay tranquil… What things unspoken trembled in t… Always I know, how little severs…
By the sad waters of separation Where we have wandered by divers w… I have but the shadow and imitatio… Of the old memorial days. In music I have no consolation,
A little while to walk with thee,… To lean on thee my weak and weary… Then evening comes: the winter sky… The leafless trees are black, the… A little while to hold thee and to…
The wisdom of the world said unto… ‘_Go forth and run, the race is to… Perchance some honour tarrieth for… ‘As tarrieth,’ I said, ‘for sure,… For I had pondered on a rune of r…
Before my light goes out for ever… graces, I would not reck of length of days… But cry: ‘One day of the great lo… Grant me to see and touch once mor…
There comes an end to summer, To spring showers and hoar rime; His mumming to each mummer Has somewhere end in time, And since life ends and laughter,
What land of Silence, Where pale stars shine On apple-blossom And dew-drenched vine, Is yours and mine?
Love wine and beauty and the sprin… While wine is red and spring is he… And through the almond blossoms ri… The dove-like voices of thy Dear. Love wine and spring and beauty wh…
A song of the setting sun! The sky in the west is red, And the day is all but done: While yonder up overhead, All too soon,
Mark the day white, on which the… Eugenio and Egeria have a child. On whom abundant grace kind Jove… If she but copy either parent’s pa… Then, Muses! long devoted to her…