Beyond Mágdalen and by the Bridge… In Summer, in a burst of summerti… Following falls and falls of rain, When the air was sweet—and—sour of… Those goldnails and their gaylinks…
I bear a basket lined with grass; I am so light, I am so fair, That men must wonder as I pass And at the basket that I bear, Where in a newly—drawn green litte…
The fine delight that fathers thou… Spur, live and lancing like the bl… Breathes once and, quenchèd faster… Leaves yet the mind a mother of im… Nine months she then, nay years, n…
TOWERY city and branchy between… Cuckoo—echoing, bell—swarmèd, lark… The dapple—eared lily below thee;… Once encounter in, here coped and… Thou hast a base and brickish skir…
Thou that on sin’s wages starvest, Behold we have the joy in harvest: For us was gather’d the first frui… For us was lifted from the roots, Sheaved in cruel bands, bruised so…
The times are nightfall, look, the… The times are winter, watch, a wor… They waste, they wither worse; the… Or bring more or more blazon man’s… And I not help. Nor word now of s…
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring… When weeds, in wheels, shoot long… Thrush’s eggs look little low heav… Through the echoing timber does so… The ear, it strikes like lightning…
I wake and feel the fell of dark,… What hours, O what black hours we… This night! what sights you, heart… And more must, in yet longer light… With witness I speak this. But wh…
A buglar boy from barrack (it is o… There)—boy bugler, born, he tells… Mother to an English sire (he Shares their best gifts surely, fa… This very very day came down to us…
How lovely the elder brother’s Life all laced in the other’s, Lóve—laced!—what once I well Witnessed; so fortune fell. When Shrovetide, two years gone,
‘The child is father to the man.’ How can he be? The words are wild… Suck any sense from that who can: ‘The child is father to the man. No; what the poet did write ran,
Look at the stars! look, look up a… O look at all the fire—folk sittin… The bright boroughs, the circle—ci… Down in dim woods the diamond delv… The grey lawns cold where gold, wh…
ACT I. SC. I Enter Teryth from riding, Winefre… T. WHAT is it, Gwen, my girl? w… W. You came by Caerwys, sir? T. I came by Caerwys.
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee: O where, what can tháat be? Weedio—weedio: there again! So tiny a trickle of sóng—strain; And all round not to be found
Moonless darkness stands between. Past, the Past, no more be seen! But the Bethlehem—star may lead m… To the sight of Him Who freed me From the self that I have been.
