#English
It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows ov…
West and away the wheels of darkne… Day’s beamy banner up the east is… Spectres and fears, the nightmare… Drown in the golden deluge of the… But over sea and continent from si…
Think no more, lad; laugh, be joll… Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly
‘Tis five years since, ’An end,'… 'I’ll march no further, time to di… All’s lost; no worse has heaven to… Worse has it given, and yet I liv… I shall not die to-day, no fear:
O thou that from thy mansion Through time and place to roam, Dost send abroad thy children, And then dost call them home, That men and tribes and nations
Wake: the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims, And the ship of sunrise burning Strands upon the eastern rims. Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn, And up from India glances The silver sail of dawn. The candles burn their sockets,
There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter, How idle and alone. Ah, past the plunge of plummet,
Now hollow fires burn out to black… And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your p… And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dr…
From Clee to heaven the beacon bu… The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign retu… And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills a…
'Tis spring; come out to ramble The hilly brakes around, For under thorn and bramble About the hollow ground The primroses are found.
The street sounds to the soldiers’… And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky’s so far,
Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hil… What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content,
Crossing alone the nighted ferry With the one coin for fee, Whom, on the wharf of Lethe waiti… Count you to find? Not me. The brisk fond lackey to fetch and…
