‘Mother, I hear a word In the air!’ Play on, play on, my son, The word thou hast heard is some b… That singeth, why and where

YOU may give over plough, boys, You may take the gear to the stead… All the sweat o’ your brow, boys, Will never get beer and bread. The seed’s waste, I know, boys,

If Time that feeds love dies to d… Immortal hours, dear friends, were… For Morn that on the hills oped e… And Eve that walked like Mary by… Where that old Dreamer, as he bui…

And since thou art no older, ’tis… And I, entranced,-with the wide s… Confronting Time-receive the equa… Of Past and Present. Yet I am no… To frenzy; but, with how much calm…

In the cot beside the water, In the white cot by the water, The white cot by the white water, There they laid the German maid. There they wound her, singing roun…

And as I mused on all we call our… And (in the words their passionate… Expressing this late world for whi… And prayed) said, lifting up my he… ‘Ne quibus diis immortalibus,’-one

Written At Florence, 1866: Since Sovereign Nature, at the ha… Is rightful and sole paragon of A… Who, tho’ she but in part, and par… Paints, carves, or sings the whole…

Return, return! all night my lamp… All night, like it, my wide eyes w… Like it, I fade and pale, when da… Bears witness that the absent can… Return, return.

Fiddler loquitur Heigho, fiddlestick, fiddlestick,… Heigho, fiddlestick, fiddle for a… Heigh, pretty Kitty! heigh, jolly… Up with the heels, girls! fling, l…

Lo, this is night. Hast thou, oh… Thy countenance, or is thy golden… Shortened, or from thy shining pla… Art thou put down and lost? Neith… Refused thy constant face, nor is…

O ye who by the gaping earth Where, faint with resurrection, la… An empire struggling into birth, Her storm-strown beauty cold with… The free winds round her flowery h…

No comfort, nay, no comfort. Yet… In Sorrow’s cause with Sorrow int… Burst not the great heart,—this is… Ah sentence it to suffer, not to d… ‘Comfort?’ If Jesus wept at Beth…

Captain be he, my England, who do… Not careful coasts, with inland we… But who, with heart infallible, ca… Straight to the gulf-streams of th… The inevitable Winds. Let cockles…

On its late (in 1871) Inundation… Well done, old Flood, that, hidin… Beneath thy yellow veil, dost wend… Those epic hills and dales of seve… To keep watch on the stone eternit…

The sun that in Breadalbane’s lak… Was melting to the sea down golden… When a cry came along the peopled… ‘Sebastopol is ours!’ From that w… I turned, and leaning on a time-wo…