Lonely, save for a few faint stars… Dreams; and lonely, below, the lit… Into its gloom retires, secluded a… Scarcely the dumb roar enters this… And all is dark, save where come f…

O paradise of waters and of isles… Dark pines on scarps that flame wh… A hundred isles that change like a… From shape to shape for them that… Many celestial palaces, gardens of…

Host Linger not, linger not, lift your… Mirth shall come, as misery passes… Hark, how the mad wind blows his h… And hunts the laggards in streets…

High on the mountain, shrouded in… The stillness had the chastity of… I trod the fallen pallors of the m… The path was paven stone: I was n… But followed whither it should lea…

Negligently the cart—track descend… The drench of the rain has passed… Scents are abroad; in the valley a… Along the hidden river, where the… The trees are asleep, their shadow…

O summer sun, O moving trees! O cheerful human noise, O busy gl… What hour shall Fate in all the f… Or what delights, ever to equal th… Only to taste the warmth, the ligh…

Lads in the loose blue, Crutched, with limping feet, With bandaged arm, that roam To—day the bustling street, You humble us with your gaze,

Vision of peace, Joy without stai… That on my vext heart sweetly shin… Hast thou, too, known the touch of… Cares and dark hours, when in vain For thy lost quiet thou repinest?

But sudden in the hush between Death and the doomed, there stands Against those levelled guns a prie… Gentle, with outstretched hands. Be not as guilty as they! he cries…

Sweet after labour, soft and whisp… Blows on dark fields and fragrant… Here there is sleep, to weary limb… The world is far away, the stars a… The world is far away: but there,…

Fly home, my thoughts, that fretti… In alien words all day, Have longed for the sun’s setting And wished all words away. Fly home to her that knows you,

Deep in these thoughts, more tende… Whose light ebbs far as in futurit… Deep, deeper yet my blessed spirit… Singing of you still; you and only… Gave me to breathe and touch and t…

Beautifully dies the year. Silence sleeps upon the mere: Yellow leaves float on it, stilly As, in June, the opened lily. Brushing o’er the frosty grass

To whom but thee, my youth to dedi… My youth, which these few leaves h… Should I now come, although I com… Alas! and can but lay them on thy… To whom but thee? From thee, I kn…

Out of these throes that search an… What is it so deep arises in us Above the shaken thoughts of fear,… Whatever thread the Fates may spi… Above the horror that would drown