Where swallows and wheatfields are… O hamlet brown and still, O river that shineth far, By meadow, pier, and mill: O endless sunsteeped plain,

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…

Canst thou not rest, O city, That liest so wide and fair; Shall never an hour bring pity, Nor end be found for care? Thy walls are high in heaven,

Yearning upon the faint rose-curve… About her child-sweet mouth and in… And in her eyes watching with eyes… The light and shadow of laughter,… Mute, knowing out two souls might…

‘Grotesque!’ we said, the moment w… For there he stood, supreme in his… With short ears close together and… Planted irregularly: first we trie… With jokes, but they were lost; we…

Underneath a tree at noontide Abu Midjan sits distressed, Fetters on his wrists and ancles, And his chin upon his breast; For the Emir’s guard had taken,

Belovèd, those who moan of love’s… Shall find but little grace with m… Who know too well this passion’s t… To deem that it shall lightly pass… A moment’s interlude in life’s dul…

Pale season, watcher in unvexed su… Still priestess of the patient mid… Betwixt wild March’s humored petu… And the warm wooing of green kirtl… Maid month of sunny peace and sobe…

With what doubting eyes, oh sparro… Thou regardest me, Underneath yon spray of yarrow, Dipping cautiously. Fear me not, oh little sparrow,

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…

Not, not for thee, Belovèd child, the burning grasp… Shall bruise the tender soul. The… And clamor of midday thou shalt no… But wrapped for ever in thy quiet…

Heavy with haze that merges and me… Into the measureless depth on eith… The full day rests upon the lumino… In one long noon of golden reverie… Now hath the harvest come and gone…

All day between high-curded clouds… Shone down like summer on the stea… The long, bright icicles in dwindl… Dripped from the murmuring eaves t… They fell. As if the spring had n…

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…

The thoughts of all the maples who… When the sad landscape turns to co… Yet some for very ruth and sheer d… Hearing the northwind pipe the win… Have fired the hills with beaconin…