On ear and ear two noises too old… Trench—right, the tide that ramps… With a flood or a fall, low lull—o… Frequenting there while moon shall… Left hand, off land, I hear the l…

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…

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…

O I admire and sorrow! The heart’… Discovering you, dark tramplers, t… A juice rides rich through bluebel… And beauty’s dearest veriest vein… Happy the father, mother of these!…

Márgarét, áre you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for,… Ah! ás the heart grows older

. . . . . . . . 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…

May is Mary’s month, and I Muse at that and wonder why: Her feasts follow reason, Dated due to season— Candlemas, Lady Day;

Repeat that, repeat, Cuckoo, bird, and open ear wells,… With a ballad, with a ballad, a re… Off trundled timber and scoops of… The whole landscape flushes on a s…

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…

Cloud—puffball, torn tufts, tossed… Built thoroughfare: heaven—royster… Down roughcast, down dazzling whit… Shivelights and shadowtackle ín lo… Delightfully the bright wind boist…

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,…

To what serves mortal beauty ‘ —da… ing blood—the O—seal—that—so ’ fea… Than Purcell tune lets tread to?… Men’s wits to the things that are;… Master more may than gaze, ’ gaze…

Honour is flashed off exploit, so… And those strokes once that gashed… Should tongue that time now, trump… And, on the fighter, forge his glo… On Christ they do and on the mart…

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…