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…

She comes! again she comes, the br… Under a ragged cloud I found her… Clasping her own dark orb like hop… That ragged cloud hath waited her… And he hath found and he will hide…

‘They have no more wine!’ she said… But they had enough of bread; And the vessels by the door Held for thirst a plenteous store: Yes,

My wife contrived a fleecy thing Her husband to infold, For ’tis the pride of woman still To cover from the cold: My daughter made it a new text

To Jordan when our Lord had gone, His Father’s pleasure willing, He took his baptism of St. John, His work and charge fulfilling; Therein he did appoint a bath

A name of the Year. Some say the… a march of wolves, which wolves, running in single fi… Others say the word means the path of the light

Near him she stole, rank after ran… She feared approach too loud; She touched his garment’s hem, and… Back in the sheltering crowd. A shame-faced gladness thrills her…

Farewell, O Arm of the Lord! Man who hated the sword, Yet struck and spared not the thin… Farewell, O word of the Word! Man who knew no failure

A broken tale of endless things, Take, lady: thou art not of those Who in what vale a fountain spring… Would have its journey close. Countless beginnings, fair first p…

I dreamed of a song-I heard it su… In the ear of my soul its strange… What were its words I could not t… Only the voice I heard right well… For its tones unearthly my spirit…

There is a bellowing in me, as of… Unfleshed and visionless, mangling… With horrible convulse, as if it b… The cruel weight of worlds, but co… With the thick-dropping clods, and…

Lord, what is man That thou art mindful of him! Though in creation’s van, Lord, what is man! He wills less than he can,

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…

Ah, holy midnight of the soul, When stars alone are high; When winds are resting at their go… And sea-waves only sigh! Ambition faints from out the will;