Green banks and gliding river! What air from what far place Comes down your waters’ face And makes your willows shiver? Over me stole a spell,

Sleep, sleep on Mother’s breast, Child, my child! Close within my arms be pressed. O the world is vast and wild, Filled with hurt and war and cries…

The bread that’s broken when we ea… Tastes sweet. A sunbeam stealing… Seems as if spilled from something… Within me, wanting no word, or its… The word I wanted! Find we not ou…

How dark, how quiet sleeps the val… In the dim farms, look, not a wind… Distantly heard among the lonely p… How soft the languid autumn breeze… Past me, and kiss my hair, and che…

Coiled in shadow, the serpent seas Engirdle perilous hills sublime: By tortuous, steep degrees Toward the morn I climb. Before me the mountain soaring vas…

Lamp that risest lone From thy secret place, Like a sleeper’s face, Charged with thoughts unknown, Strange thoughts, unexpressed

Trees are for lovers. A spirit has led them Where the young boughs meet And the green light hovers, And shadowy winds blow sweet.

Goethe, who saw and who foretold A world revealed New—springing from its ashes old On Valmy field, When Prussia’s sullen hosts retir…

She was a city of patience; of pro… Dimmed by neglecting Time; of bea… Of acquiescence in the creeping mo… But on a sudden fierce destruction… Tigerishly pouncing: thunderbolt a…

The Genius of an hour that fading… Resigned to wide—haired Night’s i… Stole me apart, I knew not where… And from my sense ravished the wor… Rose in my view a visionary ground…

What ails John Winter, that so of… Silent he sits apart? The neighbours cast their looks on… But deep he hides his heart. In Deptford streets the houses sm…

Tremulous out of that long darknes… Wast thou, O blossom, made Upon the wintry bough? What drew thee to appear, Like a thought in the mind,

Now is the time for the burning of… They go to the fire; the nostril p… Wandering slowly into a weeping mi… Brittle and blotched, ragged and r… A flame seizes the smouldering rui…

In a by—street, blocked with rubbl… And any—way—tumbled stones, Between the upstanding house—front… Naked and scorched bones, Chinese workmen were clearing

Who are these that meet At random in the street? Adversaries! Yet they Make no sign nor stay. Neither he nor she