(ADDRESSED TO CERTAI… The wind is East, the wind is Wes… Blows in and out of haven; The wind that blows is the wind th… And croak, my jolly raven!

We who have seen Italia in the th… Half risen but to be hurled to gro… Like a ripe field of wheat where o… All bounteous as she is fair, we t… Who blew the breath of life into h…

Ask, is Love divine, Voices all are, ay. Question for the sign, There’s a common sigh. Would we, through our years,

Avert, High Wisdom, never vainly… This threat of War, that shows a… When nations gain the pitch where… Seems reason they are ripe for can… Dark looms the issue though the ca…

unset worn to its last vermilion h… She that star overhead in slow des… That white star with the front of… He undone in his rays of glory spe… Halo, fair as the bow-shot at his…

For a Heracles in his fighting ir… follows When ashen he lies and the poets a… done. But to vision alive under shallows…

Grey with all honours of age! but… As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard… Tender to tearfulness—childlike, a… Here beats true English blood ric… ground.

We look for her that sunlike stood Upon the forehead of our day, An orb of nations, radiating food For body and for mind alway. Where is the Shape of glad array;

Melpomene among her livid people, Ere stroke of lyre, upon Thaleia… Warned by old contests that one mu… Along those lips of rose with tend… Forebodes disturbance in the sprin…

There she goes up the street with… And her Good morning, Martin! Ay… Very well, thank you, Martin!-I c… I might just as well never have co… I can’t understand it. She talks…

When nuts behind the hazel-leaf Are brown as the squirrel that hun… And the fields are rich with the s… ‘Mid the blue cornflower and the y… And the farmer glows and beams in…

Here Jack and Tom are paired with… Curved open to the river-reach is… A country merry-making on the gree… Fair space for signal shakings of… That little screwy fiddler from hi…

[Iliad, B. I. V. 149] ‘Heigh me! brazen of front, thou g… Servant here to thy mandates, heed… Either the mission hie on or stout… I, not hither I fared on account…

Thou to me art such a spring As the Arab seeks at eve, Thirsty from the shining sands; There to bathe his face and hands, While the sun is taking leave,

Am I failing? For no longer can… A glory round about this head of g… Glory she wears, but springing fro… Not like the consecration of the… Is my soul beggared? Something mo…