The times are nightfall, look, the… The times are winter, watch, a wor… They waste, they wither worse; the… Or bring more or more blazon man’s… And I not help. Nor word now of s…
My own heart let me more have pity… Me live to my sad self hereafter k… Charitable; not live this tormente… With this tormented mind tormentin… I cast for comfort I can no more…
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…
Strike, churl; hurl, cheerless win… May’s beauty massacre and wispèd w… Out on the giant air; tell Summer… Bid joy back, have at the harvest,…
. . . . . . . . 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…
Nothing is so beautiful as spring… When weeds, in wheels, shoot long… Thrush’s eggs look little low heav… Through the echoing timber does so… The ear, it strikes like lightning…
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee: O where, what can tháat be? Weedio—weedio: there again! So tiny a trickle of sóng—strain; And all round not to be found
Beyond Mágdalen and by the Bridge… In Summer, in a burst of summerti… Following falls and falls of rain, When the air was sweet—and—sour of… Those goldnails and their gaylinks…
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…
Mortal my mate, bearing my rock—a—… Warm beat with cold beat company,… Earlier or you fail at our force,… The ruins of, rifled, once a world… The telling time our task is; time…
No worst, there is none. Pitched… More pangs will, schooled at forep… Comforter, where, where is your co… Mary, mother of us, where is your… My cries heave, herds—long; huddle…
Tom—garlanded with squat and surly… Tom; then Tom’s fallowbootfellow… By him and rips out rockfire homef… Tom Heart—at—ease, Tom Navvy: he… Sure, ’s bed now. Low be it: lust…
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…
Thee, God, I come from, to thee g… All day long I like fountain flow From thy hand out, swayed about Mote—like in thy mighty glow. What I know of thee I bless,
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I… With thee; but, sir, so what I pl… Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and… Disappointment all I endeavour en… Wert thou my enemy, O thou my fri…