I stood in an ancient garden With high red walls around; Over them grey and green lichens In shadowy arabesque wound. The topmost climbing blossoms

Brother artist, help me; come! Artists are a maimed band: I have words but not a hand; Thou hast hands though thou art du… Had I thine, when words did fail–

Imagination cannot rise above thee… Near and afar I see thee, and I l… My misery away from me I thrust i… For thy perfection I behold, and…

Oh, melancholy fragment of the nig… Drawing thy lazy web against the s… Thou shouldst have waited till the… With kindred glooms to build thy f… Sublime amid the ruins of the ligh…

Why came in dreams the low-born ma… Between thee and thy rest? In vain thy whispered message ran, Though justice was its quest! Did some young ignorant angel dare…

’Tis the midnight hour; I heard The Abbey-bell give out the word. Seldom is the lamp-ray shed On some dwarfed foot-farer’s head In the deep and narrow street

We doubt the word that tells us:… And ye shall have your prayer; We turn our thoughts as to a task, With will constrained and rare. And yet we have; these scanty pray…

Up cam the tide wi’ a burst and a… And back gaed the stanes wi’ a whu… The king’s son walkit i’ the eveni… To hear the sea murmur and murr. Straucht ower the water slade frae…

Father, in the dark I lay, Thirsting for the light, Helpless, but for hope alway In thy father-might. Out of darkness came the morn,

In the winter, flowers are springi… In the winter, woods are green, Where our banished birds are singi… Where our summer sun is seen! Our cold midnights are coeval

The times are changed, and gone th… When the high heavenly land, Though unbeheld, quite near them l… And men could understand. The dead yet find it, who, when he…

Roses all the rosy way! Roses to the rosier west Where the roses of the day Cling to night’s unrosy breast! Thou who mak’st the roses, why

I say! hey! cousin there! I mustn… Yet you have a tail behind, and I… You pull, and I pull, though we d… You have less hardship, and I hav… II.

One is a slow and melancholy maid; I know riot if she cometh from the… Or from the sleepy gulfs, but she… Often before me in the twilight sh… Holding a bunch of poppies and a b…

O Lord, my God, how long Shall my poor heart pant for a bou… How long, O mighty Spirit, shall… The murmur of Truth’s crystal wat… From the deep caverns of their end…