A grinding swerve, a hissing spurt… And then a droning through the dir… The tram glides on its wonted way Of everyday, of everyday. Past every corner still the same

What shall I say to thee, my spir… Unaccountably conquered, where tho… Life, that, yesterday, the sun’s o… Darkened now, like a train of capt… Alas! ’tis an old trouble, vainly…

Still for your frontier stands The host that knew no dread, Your little, stubborn land’s Nameless, immortal dead.

Heroes, whose days are told, Above whose bodies brave Presses the heavy, cold, And quenching wave! Ye sleep: but your bright fame,

Out of first sleep as they awoke The moon had stolen upon her face. It seemed that they had opened eye… New on another world and place. The eyes of each the other sought

She is eight years old. When she laughs, her eyes laugh; Light dances in her eyes; She tosses back her long hair And with a song replies;

In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching b… His cradled limbs would house. On the airy bed that rocked him

I want a thousand things to—night; The bonds of earth are strict and… Yet glory were a vain delight Did you not sing within my song. Hungers, despairs, and victories,

Woe to him that has not known the… Who has not felt within him burnin… Of desolated bosoms, since the wor… Felt, as his own, the burden of th… Who has not eaten failure’s bitter…

In the shadow of a broken house, Down a deserted street, Propt walls, cold hearths, and pha… And the silence of dead feet— Locked wildly in one another’s arm…

The stag that lifted up his kingly… Upon the silent mountains, and fro… Beneath him heard the confident ha… Of men invading his old solitudes, Then bounding over the rough slope…

Well is it, shrouded Sun, thou sp… To illumine this sad street! A li… Would but discover more this bald… Of roofs dejected, window patched… From sordid walls: for the shy bre…

She is not fair, as some are fair, Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay: On her clear brow, come grief what… She suffers not too stern an air; But, grave in silence, sweet in sp…

Lusty life her river pours Along a road of shining shores. The moon of August beams Mild as upon her harvest slopes; b… From man’s full—breath’d abounding…

Beautiful, cold, freshness of ligh… The black masts, mirrored with the… The hill—gloom and the sleeping wh… Up magical faint heights of fading… I hear the waves, on the long shin…