Look up, desponding hearts! See,… From out her tents behind the scre… And speeds her glittering lances o… Where hostile mists, unconscious,… Roused from their vain security, t…

The lark confinèd in his cage, And captive in his wing, Though fluttering with imprisoned… Forbeareth not to sing. But still the strain, though loud…

Maiden, with English hair, and ey… The colour of Italian skies, What seek you by this shore? ‘I seek, sir, for the latest home Where Shelley dwelt, and, o’er th…

What! And it was so! Thou wert th… Death-stricken from behind, O heart of hearts! and they were m… That rent thee from mankind! Greedy hatred chasing love,

What is the voice I hear On the wind of the Western Sea? Sentinel, listen from out Cape Cl… And say what the voice may be. ‘'Tis a proud, free people calling…

Why, rapturous bird, though shades… Muffle the leaves and swathe the l… Singest thou still with all thy mi… As though ’twere noon, as though ’… Silence darkens on vale and hill,

‘Grandmother dear, you do not know… Under the twittering eaves of home… Rocking cradles, and covering jams… Or piecing together lavender bags… Daughter, wife, and mother in turn…

Where have you been through the lo… That follow the fragrant feet of… By the dells and the dingles gathe… Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped… And sooth each wilding that buds a…

Where lies Mozart? Tradition show… A likely spot: so much, no more: No words of his own time disclose When crossed He to the Further S… Though later ages, roused to shame…

I never saw you, never grasped you… Nor wrote nor read lines absence l… Ne’er with you sate in your accust… Nor waited for your coming on sea… But this I know, if along unseen…

‘In the depth of Night, on the he… Would you know where I rest or ro… In vain will you search, for I no… And the Universe is my home. ’When you think to descry on the c…

Beyond the pasture’s withered bent… Upstanding hop, recumbent fleece, And sheaves of wheat, like weather… A twilight bivouac of peace.

Now round red roofs stand russet s… Homeward from gleaning in the stub… High overhead the harsh rook saile… And cupless acorns crackle 'neath… No breeze, no breath, veereth the…

Church-doors should still stand op… Open to all who come for praise or… Laden with gift of love or load of… Nimbused with gold, or flecked wit… Mother, or snow-white bride, or pa…

Why love life more, the less of it… And what is left be little but the… And Time’s subsiding passions hav… One’s taste for pleasure, and one’… Is it not better, like the waning…