From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now—for a breath I tarry

The world goes none the lamer For ought that I can see, Because this cursed trouble Has struck my days and me. The stars of heaven are steady,

Shot? so quick, so clean an ending… Oh that was right, lad, that was b… Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave… Oh you had forethought, you could…

Say, lad, have you things to do? Quick then, while your day’s at pr… Quick, and if 'tis work for two, Here am I man: now’s your time. Send me now, and I shall go;

Soldier from the wars returning, Spoiler of the taken town, Here is ease that asks not earning… Turn you in and sit you down. Peace is come and wars are over,

“Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. ”Oh, at home had I but stayed

“Is my team ploughing, That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle When I was man alive?” Ay, the horses trample,

When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, “Another night, another day. ”When shall this slough of sense b…

Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man’s soul. Now in Maytime to the wicket

Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean

Bring, in this timeless grave to t… No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December thr… Break no rosemary, bright with rim…

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…

The night is freezing fast, To-morrow comes December; And winterfalls of old Are with me from the past; And chiefly I remember

Wake not for the world-heard thund… Nor the chimes that earthquakes to… Stars may plot in heaven with plan… Lightning rive the rock of granite… Tempest tread the oakwood under,

Stay, if you list, O passer by th… Yet night approaches; better not t… I never sigh, nor flush, nor knit… Nor grieve to think how ill God m… Here, with one balm for many fever…