I would I were an angel strong, An angel of the sun, hasting along… I would I were just come awake, A child outbursting from night’s d… Or lark whose inward, upward fate

‘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,

’Tis time to sleep, my little boy: Why gaze thy bright eyes so? At night our children, for new joy Home to thy father go, But thou art wakeful! Sleep, my c…

Loosener of springs, he died by th… Softness, not hardness, sent him h… He loved thee-and thou mad’st him… Of all the place thou comest from!

There may be seeming calm above, b… There is a pulse below which cease… A subterranean working, fiery hot, Deep in the million-hearted bosom,… Earthquakes unlock not the prodigi…

Winter froze both brook and well; Fast and fast the snowflakes fell; Children gathered round the hearth Made a summer of their mirth; When a boy, so lately come

I said, I will arise and work som… Nor be content with growth, but ca… A life around me, clear as yes fro… That to my restless hand some rest… And give a vital power to Action’…

If thou hadst been a sculptor, wha… Of forms divine had thenceforth fi… Methinks I see thee, glorious wor… Striking a marble window through b… Thy face’s reflex on the coming fa…

Lord, I have laid my heart upon t… But cannot get the wood to burn; It hardly flares ere it begins to… And to the dark return. Old sap, or night-fallen dew, make…

A thousand houses of poesy stand a… They fill the earth and they fill… air; But to-night they have shut their… windows fair,

Seek not my name-it doth no virtue… Seek, seek thine own primeval name… The name God called when thy idea… Arose in deeps of the eternal mind… When that thou findest, thou art s…

If I were a monk, and thou wert a… Pacing it wearily, wearily, Twixt chapel and cell till day wer… Wearily, wearily– How would it fare with these heart…

Is there a secret Joy, that may n… For every flower that ends its lit… For every child that groweth up to… For every captive bird a cage doth… For every aching eye that went to…

ALAS, my tent! see through it a… Moaning, poor Fancy’s doves are s… I sit alone, a sorrow half asleep, My consciousness the blackness all… No pilgrim I, a homeless wanderer…

Enough he labours for his hire; Yea, nought can pay his pain; But powers that wear and waste and… Need help to toil again. They give him freely all they can,