Lonely wonder, delight past hoping… Sky-line broken by stirring trees, Grey rocks hither and shoreward sl… Silent bracken about my knees. Dusky scrub where the sunlight spl…

When my time is come to die, I would shun the decent gloom, Whispered word and weeping eye, Fitful hum of knowing fly Questing through the darkened room…

The bulging cloud mounts lazily In shade where sunlight glances th… And sweeping lightly from the tree Melts indolently in the blue. The scanty grass-blades yonder sha…

The heart is hard that cannot feel The bruising of a light appeal. The heart is deaf that cannot hear The splashing of a tiny tear. The heart is dumb that cannot say

The foamy waves are swishing As patiently we thud, But O the wave of wishing That surges in my blood! Along the ocean’s rim, now,

What of these tender feet    That have never toddled yet?    What dances shall they beat,    With what red vintage wet? In what wild way will they march o…

When I cast my slough of clay Put it quietly away. Let no bloom untimely fade Where my empty heart is laid. Ask no folk to crowd around

Good friend of mine, you feel with… Your blood grows hot by sympathy With something that I say or do; Then speak—I want a word from you… Let not the silence wrap you round

Hail and farewell to those who fou… Not laughingly adventurous, nor pa… With idiot hatred, nor to fill the… Of racial selfishness and patriot… But merely that their own souls ro…

When fires have burnt your forest… And you are parched and dizzy, and… For pools in dust unvisited of rai… And shamble, lost, along a shimmer… This is the comfort of the world:…

In the grey dawn I lie within my… Still as a frozen lake that pats n… With murmurous delight the o’erhan… Yet grim thoughts heave obscurely… For curtains I have earthen walls…

One very rough day on the Pride o… In the scuppers a poor little cabi… When the Bosun drew nigh with wra… And gave him a kick to remember hi… As he cried with a sneer: “What g…

And can you tell me Love is blind Because your faults he will not fi… Because the image that he sees Is one of splendid mysteries? And if he lack the power to look

Where yonder ruddy-misted star Is tumbling down the placid sky The people’s aims were not so high As our heroic motives are; To love and trust they set a bar,

Not till the sun, that brings to b… The myriad marvels of the earth And bids us look with wandering ey… On all that here about us lies, Has gone behind the hill,