(A Memory of August, 1883) I STOOD in the ghastly gleaming… Of the dreadful river that rolls h… Woe; And mine eyes were heavy with slee…
He sits. Upon the kingly head dot… The round-balled wimple, and the h… Touch on the shoulders where the s… The downward garment shows the amb… The Face—that Face one scarce can…
Sir, we approve your curling lip a… At this vile sight. These men, these women are brute b… Sir, but that you are right? Panders and harlots, rogues and th…
(TO LORD——) WILL you not buy? She asks you,… Who know the points desirable in s… She does not say that she is perfe… She’s not too pleasant to the sigh…
‘My baby girl, that was born and d… ‘WITH wild torn heart I see them… Wee unused clothes and empty cot. Though glad my love has missed the… That falls to woman’s lot.
Who is it speaks of defeat?— I tell you a Cause like ours Is greater than defeat can know; It is the power of powers! As surely as the earth rolls round…
One thing we praise you for that i… The dauntless eyes that faced the… The hand that never wearied in the… Till, through the dark’s despair,… It rose, that vision of forgotten…
LET him who toils, enjoy Fruit of his toiling. Let him whom sweats annoy, No more be spoiling. For we would have it be
ALOLL in the warm clear water, On her back with languorous limbs, She lies. The baby upon her breas… Paddles and falls and swims. With half-closed eyes she smiles,
Men and boys, O fathers, brothers… Burst these fetters round you boun… Women, sisters, wives and mothers, Lift your faces from the ground! O Democracy, O People,
YOU tell me these great lords hav… I say they have degraded it. Look… When ever did they let the Poet s… The Painter paint, the Sculptor h… The Music raise her heavenly voic…
COME then, let us at least know… Let us not blink our eyes and say We did not understand; old age or… Benumbed our sense or stole our si… It is a lie—just that, a lie—to de…
“Yes, let Art go, if it must be That with it men must starve - If Music, Painting, Poetry Spring from the wasted hearth!” Yes, let Art go, till once again
SHE went along the road, Her baby in her arms, The night and its alarms Made deadlier her load. Her shrunken breasts were dry;
(The friend my verse won for me) With a Copy of My 'Poetical Work… ‘TAKE with all my heart, friend,… The labour of my past, Though the heart here hidden is