If I have erred in showing all my… And lost your favour by a lack of… If standing like a beggar at your… With naked feet, I have forgot th… Of those who bargain well in passi…
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in… Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morn… Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the go…
Long had I loved this “Attic shap… Of marble maidens round this urn d… But when your golden voice began t… The empty urn was filled with Chi…
Children of the elemental mother, Born upon some lonely island shore Where the wrinkled ripples run and… Where the crested billows plunge a… Long—winged, tireless roamers and…
Peace without Justice is a low es… A coward cringing to an iron Fate… But Peace through Justice is the… We’ll pay the price of war to make…
If all the skies were sunshine, Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music,
To thee, plain hero of a rugged ra… We bring the meed of praise too lo… Thy fearless word and faithful wor… For God’s Republic firmer path an… In this New World: thou hast proc…
The other night I had a dream, mo… And comforting, complete In every line, a crystal sphere, And full of intimate and secret ch… Therefore I will repeat
Like a long arrow through the dark… Bearing me far away, after a perfe… Wakeful with all the sad—sweet mem… I lift the narrow window—shade and… Lonely the land unknown, and like…
Mother of all the high—strung poet… Mother of all the grass that weave… Mother of all the manifold forms o… Silent brooder and nurse of lyrica… Out of thee, yea, surely out of th…
Not to the swift, the race: Not to the strong, the fight: Not to the righteous, perfect grac… Not to the wise, the light. But often faltering feet
The melancholy gift Aurora gained From Jove, that her sad lover sho… The face of death, no goddess aske… My Keats! But when the crimson bl… Thy pillow, thou didst read the fa…
Long, long ago I heard a little s… (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday… So lowly, slowly wound the tune al… That far into my heart it found th… A melody consoling and endearing;
Her eyes are like the evening air, Her voice is like a rose, Her lips are like a lovely song, That ripples as it flows, And she herself is sweeter than
God said, “I am tired of kings,”— But that was a long while ago! And meantime man said, “No,— I like their looks in their robes… So he crowned a few more,
