Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, yo… With your fresh thoughts care for,… Ah! as the heart grows older
O I admire and sorrow! The heart’… Discovering you, dark tramplers, t… A juice rides rich through bluebel… And beauty’s dearest veriest vein… Happy the father, mother of these!…
Repeat that, repeat, Cuckoo, bird, and open ear wells,… With a ballad, with a ballad, a re… Off trundled timber and scoops of… The whole landscape flushes on a s…
Patience, hard thing! the hard thi… But bid for, Patience is! Patienc… Wants war, wants wounds; weary his… To do without, take tosses, and ob… Rare patience roots in these, and,…
Wild air, world—mothering air, Nestling me everywhere, That each eyelash or hair Girdles; goes home betwixt The fleeciest, frailest—flixed
To what serves mortal beauty ‘ —da… ing blood—the O—seal—that—so ’ fea… Than Purcell tune lets tread to?… Men’s wits to the things that are;… Master more may than gaze, ’ gaze…
God with honour hang your head, Groom, and grace you, bride, your… With lissome scions, sweet scions, Out of hallowed bodies bred. Each by other’s comfort kind:
My own heart let me more have pity… Me live to my sad self hereafter k… Charitable; not live this tormente… With this tormented mind tormentin… I cast for comfort I can no more…
. . . . . . . . Hope holds to Christ the mind’s o… To take His lovely likeness more… It will not well, so she would bri… An ever brighter burnish than befo…
May is Mary’s month, and I Muse at that and wonder why: Her feasts follow reason, Dated due to season— Candlemas, Lady Day;
Earnest, earthless, equal, attunea… Evening strains to be tíme’s vást,… Her fond yellow hornlight wound to… Waste; her earliest stars, earl—st… Fíre—féaturing heaven. For earth…
The furl of fresh—leaved dogrose d… His cheeks the forth—and—flaunting… Had swarthed about with lion—brown Before the Spring was done. His locks like all a ravel—rope’s—…
Yes. Why do we áll, seeing of a s… Our redcoats, our tars? Both thes… But frail clay, nay but foul clay.… Since, proud, it calls the calling… That, hopes that, makesbelieve, th…
Thou mastering me God! giver of breath and bread; World’s strand, sway of the sea; Lord of living and dead; Thou hast bound bones & veins in m…
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.
