On the morning of May, Ere the children had entered my ga… With their wreaths and mechanical… A metal ding-dong of the date! I mounted our hill, bearing heart

With Life and Death I walked whe… And made them on each side a shado… Through wooded vales the land of d… Where down smooth rapids whirls th… To fall on daylight; and night put…

[Iliad, V. V. 385—Dedicated to t… How big of breast our Mother Gaea… At sight of her boy Giants on the… Each over other as they neighboure… Fronting the day’s descent across…

See’st thou a Skylark whose glist… Quiver like pulses beneath the mel… Deep in the heart—yearning distanc… Wisdom and beauty and love are the…

No, no, the falling blossom is no… Of loveliness destroy’d and sorrow… The blossom sheds its loveliness d… Its mission is to prophecy the fru… Nor is the day of love for ever de…

Out in the yellow meadows, where t… Hums by us with the honey of the… And showers of sweet notes from th… Are dropping like a noon-dew, wand… Or is it now? or was it then? for…

Sharp is the night, but stars with… Leap off the rim of earth across t… It is a night to make the heavens… More than the nest whereto apace w… Lengths down our road each fir—tre…

Love within the lover’s breast Burns like Hesper in the west, O’er the ashes of the sun, Till the day and night are done; Then when dawn drives up her car -

Under what spell are we debased By fears for our inviolate Isle, Whose record is of dangers faced And flung to heel with even smile? Is it a vaster force, a subtler gu…

Strike not thy dog with a stick! I did it yesterday: Not to undo though I gained The Paradise: heavy it rained On Kobold’s flanks, and he lay.

We three are on the cedar-shadowed… My friend being third. He who at… Is in the weak rib by a fatal shaf… Struck through, and tells his pass… And radiant culmination, glorious…

[Iliad, B. XI. V. 148] These, then, he left, and away whe… Onward rushed, and with him rushed… Foot then footmen slew, that were… Horse at the horsemen (up from off…

We saw the swallows gathering in t… And in the osier-isle we heard the… We had not to look back on summer… Or forward to a summer of bright d… But in the largeness of the evenin…

What soul would bargain for a cure… Contempt the nobler agony to kill? Rather let me bear on the bitter i… And strike this rusty bosom with n… It seems there is another veering…

I think she sleeps: it must be sle… Hangs that abandoned arm toward th… The face turned with it. Now make… Sleep on: it is your husband, not… The Poet’s black stage-lion of wr…