Almond, apple, and peach, Walnut, cherry, plum, Ash, chestnut, and beech, And lime and sycamore We have planted for days to come;

O when will life taste clean again… Is fouled: the world sees, hears;… Vile fume that would corrupt etern… Were they corruptible. Harsh trum… Victory over the defenceless; ther…

And must I deem you mortal as my… O solemn stars, that to man’s doub… So long have seemed, 'mid the worl… And glories gone, the sole eternal… To perishable flesh and mouldering…

Drinking wide, sunny wind, Hand within hand, We look from hill to hill Of our own land. Hand within hand, we remember

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

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

A wondrous rumour fills and stirs The wide Carmanian Vale; On leafy hills the sunburnt vintag… Stand listening; silent is the ech… Upon the threshing—floors:

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…

Be ruthless, then; scorn slaves of… The blow, planned with such patien… So terribly; hack on, and care not… The innocent fall; live out your f… Then you speak speech that we can…

Shabby house-wall Of bricks once yellow, Dingied with city grime, Dusty and sallow, The high sun, glorying

Random rock And the stain of the rain, Smell of bracken, The windy moor And the wild cloud,

What far—off trouble steals In soft—blown drifts of glimmering… What is it the wind feels, What sighing of what old home—seek… Among the hurried footsteps and th…

Shafts of light, that poured from… Glowed on long red walls of the ga… Fell upon monstrous visions of age… Still, smiling Sphinx, winged and… With burnished breast of ebon marb…

Swift and straight as homing dove, Heedless, so its flight be flown, All the full stream of thy love, Love that knows no mortal bounding… Pours, is emptied for its own,

The shrines of old are broken down… The faiths that knelt at them are… Nothing’s strange, and nought unkn… All’s been done and all been said. Tired of knowledge, now we sigh