The sea took pity: it interposed w… ‘I have tall daughters dear that h… Let Winter wed one, sow them in h… And she shall child them on the N…
I wake and feel the fell of dark,… What hours, O what black hours we… This night! what sights you, heart… And more must, in yet longer light… With witness I speak this. But wh…
Some candle clear burns somewhere… I muse at how its being puts bliss… With yellowy moisture mild night’s… Or to—fro tender trambeams truckle… By that window what task what fing…
Earnest, earthless, equal, attunea… Evening strains to be tíme’s vást,… Her fond yellow hornlight wound to… Waste; her earliest stars, earl—st… Fíre—féaturing heaven. For earth…
Love I was shewn upon the mountai… And bid to catch Him ere the drop… See, Love, I creep and Thou on w… Love it is evening now and Thou a… Love, it grows darker here and Th…
To seem the stranger lies my lot,… Among strangers. Father and mothe… Brothers and sisters are in Chris… And he my peace my parting, sword… England, whose honour O all my he…
Yes. Why do we áll, seeing of a s… Our redcoats, our tars? Both thes… But frail clay, nay but foul clay.… Since, proud, it calls the calling… That, hopes that, makesbelieve, th…
THIS darksome burn, horseback br… His rollrock highroad roaring down… In coop and in comb the fleece of… Flutes and low to the lake falls h… A windpuff—bonnet of fáwn—fróth
Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si d… verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c… Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I… With thee; but, sir, so what I pl…
Not of all my eyes see, wandering… Is anything a milk to the mind so,… Poetry to it, as a tree whose boug… Say it is ashboughs: whether on a… Fast ór they in clammyish lashtend…
Felix Randal the farrier, O is he… Who have watched his mould of man,… Pining, pining, till time when rea… Fatal four disorders, fleshed ther… Sickness broke him. Impatient, he…
Towery city and branchy between to… Cuckoo—echoing, bell—swarmèd, lark… The dapple—eared lily below thee;… Once encounter in, here coped & po… Thou hast a base and brickish skir…
I awoke in the Midsummer not to c… The moon, dwindled and thinned to… Or paring of paradisaical fruit, l… Stepped from the stool, drew back… A cusp still clasped him, a fluke…
Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear. Shape nothing, lips; be lovely—dum…
. . . . . . . . Hope holds to Christ the mind’s o… To take His lovely likeness more… It will not well, so she would bri… An ever brighter burnish than befo…