Out of the sun, out of the blast, Out of the world, alone I passed Across the moor and through the wo… To where the monastery stood. There neither lute nor breathing f…

In ancient tales, O friend, thy s… There, from of old, thy childhood… High expectation, high delights an… Thy fluttering heart with hope and… And thou hast heard of yore the B…

THE angler rose, he took his rod, He kneeled and made his prayers to… The living God sat overhead: The angler tripped, the eels were…

Do you remember —can we e’er forge… How, in the coiled-perplexities of… In our wild climate, in our scowli… We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed,… The belching winter wind, the miss…

We uncommiserate pass into the nig… From the loud banquet, and departi… A tremor in men’s memories, faint… And frail as music. Features of o… The tones of the voice, the touch…

She rested by the Broken Brook, She drank of Weary Well, She moved beyond my lingering look… Ah, whither none can tell! She came, she went. In other lan…

I will make you brooches and toys… Of bird-song at morning and star-s… I will make a palace fit for you a… Of green days in forests and blue… I will make my kitchen, and you sh…

THE summer sun shone round me, The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day. The tall trees stood in the sunlig…

Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand. Green leaves a—floating,

Even in the bluest noonday of Jul… There could not run the smallest b… But all the quarter sounded like a… And in the chequered silence and a… The hum of city cabs that sought t…

The strong man’s hand, the snow—co… The certain—footed sympathies of y… These, and that lofty passion afte… Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sa… Or the great men of former years,…

I have a hoard of treasure in my b… The grange of memory steams agains… Full of my bygone lifetime’s garne… Old pleasures crowned with sorrow… Old sorrow grown a joy, old penanc…

It is not yours, O mother, to com… Not, mother, yours to weep, Though nevermore your son again Shall to your bosom creep, Though nevermore again you watch y…

TO her, for I must still regard h… As feminine in her degree, Who has been my unkind bombarder Year after year, in grief and glee… Year after year, with oaken tree;