He who would start and rise Before the crowing cocks,— No more he lifts his eyes, Whoever knocks. He who before the stars

(A Modernity) Twelve good friends Passed under her hat, And devil a one of them Knew where he was at.

A faint wind, blowing from World’… Made strange the city street. A strange sound mingled in the fal… Of the familiar feet. Something unseen whirled with the…

Before our trenches at Cambrai We saw their columns cringe away. We saw their masses melt and reel Before our line of leaping steel. A handful to their storming hordes…

It is so long ago; and men well-ni… Forget what gladness was, and how… Gave corn in plenty, and the river… And the woods meat, before he went… His going was on this wise.

When the Sleepy Man comes with th… (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) He shuts up the earth, and he open… (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He smiles through his fingers, and…

(from “The Sprightly Pilgrim”) I sat and read Anacreon. Moved by the gay, delicious measur… I mused that lips were made for lo… And love to charm a poet’s leisure…

O thou who lovest not alone The swift success, the instant goa… But hast a lenient eye to mark The failures of th’ inconstant sou… Consider not my little worth,—

A high bare field, brown from the… Aslant from sunset; amber wastes o… Washing the ridge; a clamour of cr… In from the wide flats where the s… To yon their rocking roosts in pin…

I see the harsh, wind-ridden, east… By the red cattle pastured, blanch… The small, mossed hillocks where t… The grey webs woven on milkweed to… The sparse, pale grasses flicker,…

How sweetly on the autumn scene, When haws are red amid the green, The hawkbit shines with face of ch… The favorite of the faltering year… When days grow short and nights gr…

Here clove the keels of centuries… Where now unvisited the flats lie… Here seethed the sweep of journeyi… No more the tumbling floods of Fu… And only in the samphire pipes cre…

Now along the solemn heights Fade the Autumn’s altar-lights;    Down the great earth’s glimmeri… Glide the days and nights. Little kindred of the grass,

Stumps, and harsh rocks, and prost… And gnarled roots naked to the sun… They seem in their grim stillness… And be their paint the evening pea… These ragged acres fire and the ax…

Sang the sun rise on an amber morn… ‘Earth, be glad! An April day is… ’Winter’s done, and April’s in th… Earth, look up with laughter in yo… Putting off her dumb dismay of sno…