Though fancy and the might of rhym… That turneth like the tide, Have borne me many a musing time, Beloved, from thy side. Ah yet, I pray thee, deem not, Sw…

Far up in the wild and wintery hil… woods, Where the mounded drifts lie soft… The hut of the lonely woodcutter s… A blunted peak and a low black lin…

The world in gloom and splendour p… And thou in the midst of it with b… A creature of that old distorted d… That makes the sound of life an ev… Good men perform just deeds, and b…

Now being on the eve of death, dis… From every mortal hope and earthly… I questioned how my soul might bes… This hand, and this still wakeful… In the brief hours yet left me for…

Broad shadows fall. On all the mo… The scythe-swept fields are silent… By the long beach the high-piled h… Splashing the pale salt shallows.… Fawn-coloured wastes of mud the sl…

White are the far-off plains, and… The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height… And denser still the snow, A gathering weight on roof and tre…

Out of the heart of the city begot… Of the labour of men and their man… Whose souls, that were sprung from… No longer regard or remember her w… Whose hearts in the furnace of car…

Now hath the summer reached her go… And, lost amid her corn-fields, br… Scarcely perceives from her divine… How near, how swift, the inevitabl… Still, still, she smiles, though f…

Clothed in splendour, beautifully… Comes the autumn over the woods an… Golden, rose-red, full of divine r… Full of foreboding. Soon the maples, soon will the glo…

’Tis well with words, oh masters,… To turn men’s eyes yearning to the… Yet first take heed to what your o… By deeds not words the souls of me… Good lives alone are fruitful; the…

No wind there is that either pipes… The fields are cold and still; the… Is covered with a blue-gray sheet Of motionless cloud; and at my fee… The river, curling softly by,

O little one, daughter, my dearest… With your smiles and your beautifu… And your laughter, the brightest a… O gravest and gayest of girls; With your hands that are softer th…

Think not, because thine inmost he… Thou hast the freedom of rude spee… Are like the voices of returning b… Filling the soul with summer, or a… That calls the weary and the sick…

The King’s son walks in the garde… Oh, the maiden’s heart is merry! He little knows for his toil and c… That the bride is gone and the bow… Put on garments of white, my maide…

From this windy bridge at rest, In some former curious hour, We have watched the city’s hue, All along the orange west, Cupola and pointed tower,