A power is on me, and my soul must… To thee, thou grey, grey man, whom… With those white-headed children.… To commune with thy setting, and t… My doubts on thy grey hair; for I…

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

Alas, ’tis cold and dark! The wind all night hath sung a win… Hail from black clouds that swallo… Beat, beat against my bark. Oh! why delays the spring?

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…

‘WHO is this little one lying,’ Said Time, ‘at my garden-gate, Moaning and sobbing and crying, Out in the cold so late?’ ‘They lurked until we came near,

And weep not, though the Beautifu… Within thy heart, as daily in thin… Thy heart must have its autumn, it… Leading, mayhap, to winter’s dim d… Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pa…

When thy heart, love-filled, grows… And eternal bliss looks nearer, Ask thy heart, nor show it favour, Is the gift or giver dearer? Love, love on; love higher, deeper…

In the hot sun, for water cool She walked in listless mood: When back she ran, her pitcher ful… Forgot behind her stood. Like one who followed straying she…

I have only one foot, but thousand… My one foot stands well, but never… I’ve a good many arms, if you coun… But hundreds of fingers, large and… From the ends of my fingers my bea…

The mountain-stream may humbly boa… For her the loud waves call; The hamlet feeds the nation’s host… The home-farm feeds the hall; And unto earth heaven’s Lord doth…

Back shining from the pane, the fi… Seems outside in the snow: So love set free from love’s desir… Lights grief of long ago. The dark is thinned with snow-shee…

Sometimes, O Lord, thou lightest… A lamp that well might pharos all… Anon the light will neither rise n… Shrouded in danger gray the beacon… A pharos? Oh dull brain! poor dyi…

As I was walkin on the strand, I spied ane auld man sit On ane auld black rock; and aye th… Cam washin up its fit. His lips they gaed as gien they wa…

I cannot praise thee. By his inst… The master sits, and moves nor foo… For see the organ-pipes this, that… Leaning, o’erthrown, like wheat-st… I well could praise thee for a flo…

If thou art tempted by a thought o… Crave not too soon for victory, no… Thou art a coward if thy safety se… To spring too little from a righte… For there is nightmare on thee, no…