Who enters here, beneath this guar… Feels over him a tender sky of lea… Dearer than heaven: at once his ey… Strange quiet: fathomless as water… Above far—sunken ships, this lumin…

Songs of the world unborn Swelling within me, a shoot from t… As I walk the ample teeming stree… This tranquil and misty morn, What is it to me you sing?

By the warm road—side, where chest… The brightness shaded, supine, at… A felon, freed that morn, Lay idle, and wondered, gazing up… O strange no more to be one of a b…

This year the grain is heavy—ripe; The apple shows a ruddier stripe; Never berries so profuse Blackened with so sweet a juice On brambly hedges, summer—dyed.

Truth incorruptible lives on, thou… Cloud, and the heart flinch, and t… Reject. Because she sought that r… Unweariable lover of the light! History’s marvel, Hellas in despi…

The night wind over the great down… Streams along the sky. In the solitude of the hill—side There is only you and I. The night wind leaps and rushes

Peace in smooth summer hour Paces the seas awhile; But Peace has built her tower Upon this chosen isle. Scarcely a ripple stirs

Grief is like a child, Led with relentless hand By a strange nurse, whose face Seems never to have smiled, Whose onward gaze severe

The Mother to her brooding breast Her shrouded baby closely holds, A stationary shadow, drest In shadow, falling folds on folds. With gesture motionless as Night

Because the storm has stript us ba… Of all things but the thing we are… Because our faith requires us whol… And we are seen to the very soul, Rejoice! From now all meaner fear…

Touched with beauty, I stand stil… In the autumn twilight. Yellow le… The grass enriching, gleam, or wav… From lime and elm: far—glimmering… The quiet lamps in order twinkle;…

Because out of corruption burns th… And to corruption lovely cheeks de… Because with her right hand she he… Her left hand wrought, loth nor to… I praise indifferent Nature, affa…

Home from the wounds of Earth and… The marvel of her beauty and morni… She has taken, glorious with the d… Still on her thoughts, those thoug… Gleamed still or splendid, unafrai…

I am weary of doing and dating The day with the thing to be done, This painful self translating To a language not my own. Give me to fashion a thing;

O love, in whose heart—murmured na… Is charm against life’s endless wr… Since all the untuned world became In you a song! I bring not only all I wrought