On your midnight pallet lying, Listen, and undo the door: Lads that waste the light in sighi… In the dark should sigh no more; Night should ease a lover’s sorrow…

The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower

Could man be drunk for ever With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober

Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me

Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be

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,

How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free,

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

‘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:

When I would muse in boyhood The wild green woods among, And nurse resolves and fancies Because the world was young, It was not foes to conquer,

The mill-stream, now that noises c… Is all that does not hold its peac… Under the bridge it murmurs by, And here are night and hell and I… Who made the world I cannot tell;

'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock to… The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer’…

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,

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he,

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