A few tossed thrushes save That carolled less than cried Against the dying rave And moan that never died, No bird sang then; no thorn,

He came and took me by the hand Up to a red rose tree, He kept His meaning to Himself But gave a rose to me. I did not pray Him to lay bare

The book was dull, its pictures As leaden as its lore, But one glad, happy picture Made up for all and more: ’Twas that of you, sweet peasant,

Babylon where I go dreaming When I weary of to-day, Weary of a world grown gray. God loves an idle rainbow, No less than laboring seas.

I climbed a hill as light fell sho… And rooks came home in scramble so… And filled the trees and flapped a… And sang themselves to sleep; An owl from nowhere with no sound

When flighting time is on I go With clap-net and decoy, A-fowling after goldfinches And other birds of joy; I lurk among the thickets of

The leaves looked in at the window Of the house across the way, At a man that had sinned like you… And all poor human clay. He muttered: 'In a gambol

Not baser than his own homekeeping… Whose journeyman he is - Blind sons and breastless daughter… Whose darkness pardons his, - About the world, while all the wor…

If you could bring her glories bac… You gentle sirs who sift the dust And burrow in the mould and must Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; Who catalogue and pigeon-hole

Sour fiend, go home and tell the… For once you met your master, - A man who carried in his soul Three charms against disaster, The Devil and disaster.

The old gilt vane and spire receiv… The last beam eastward striking; The first shy bat to peep at eve Has found her to his liking. The western heaven is dull and gre…

He begged and shuffled on; Sometimes he stopped to throw A bit and benison To sparrows in the snow, And clap a frozen ear

Now one and all, you Roses, Wake up, you lie too long! This very morning closes The Nightingale his song; Each from its olive chamber

See an old unhappy bull, Sick in soul and body both, Slouching in the undergrowth Of the forest beautiful, Banished from the herd he led,

I saw with open eyes Singing birds sweet Sold in the shops For people to eat, Sold in the shops of