Well for youth to seek the strong, Beautiful, and brave! We, the old, who walk along Gently to the grave, Only pay our court to thee,

Methought I stood among the stars… Watching a grey parched orb which… Half blinded by the dusty winds th… Empty as Death and barren as a st… The pleasant sound of water all un…

On the far horizon there Heaps of cloudy darkness rest; Though the wind is in the air There is stupor east and west. For the sky no change is making,

THE song birds that come to me ni… Fly oft away and vanish if I slee… Nor to my fowling-net will one ret… Is the thing ever ours we cannot k… But their souls go not out into th…

Win’ that blaws the simmer plaid Ower the hie hill’s shoothers laid… Green wi’ gerse, an’ reid wi’ heat… Welcome wi’ yer sowl-like weather! Mony a win’ there has been sent

Methought I floated sightless, no… That I had ears until I heard the… As of a mighty man in agony: ‘How long, Lord, shall I lie thus… The arrows of thy lightning throug…

‘Grant, Lord, her prayer, and let… She crieth after us.’ Nay, to the dogs ye cast it so; Serve not a woman thus. Their pride, by condescension fed,

The brother knew well the castle o… Every closet, each outlook fair, Every turret and bartizan bold, Every chamber, garnished or bare. The brother was out in the heavenl…

It’s all very well, Said the Bell, To be the big Organ below! But the folk come and go, Said the Bell,

They say that lonely sorrows do no… More gently, I think, sorrows tog… A new one joins the funeral glidin… With less of jar than when it brea… Grief swages grief, and joy doth j…

Sad-hearted, be at peace: the snow… Buried in sepulchre of ghastly sno… But spring is floating up the sout… And darkling the pale snowdrop wai… Let me persuade: in dull December…

Some men there are who cannot spar… A single tear until they feel The last cold pressure, and the he… Is stamped upon the outmost layer. And, waking, some will sigh to thi…

I follow, tottering, in the funera… That bears my body to the welcomin… As those I mourn not, that entomb… But smile as those that lay aside… To me it is a thing of poor disdai…

Job XIV. 13-15. RONDEL. Would that thou hid me in the grav… And kept me with death’s gaoler-ca… Until thy wrath away should wear

Here much and little shift and cha… With scale of need and time; There more and less have meanings… Which the world cannot rime. Sickness may be more hale than hea…