And these are Christians! God! th… How long, O Lord! how long, O Lo… Wilt Thou endure this crime? and… Look down on Earth nor sweep away… Are these Thy teachings? Where is…

Inspiration. All who have toiled for Art, who’… Sat equal priests at her high Pen… Only the chrism and sacrament of f… Anointing all, inspired not all th…

There was a man rode into town one… Barefooted, hatless, and without a… It was the dead of winter. Round… Were marks of violence: bits and w… Bristled his beard and hair. From…

Bald, with old eyes a blood-shot b… Into the Boar’s-Head Inn: the ho… His fulvous face, and all his raim… Of all the stews and all the East… Upon the battered board again he d…

All the roses now are gone, All their glories shed: Here’s a rose that grows not wan, Rose of love to wear upon Your fair breast instead.

Yes, I love the homestead. There In the spring the lilacs blew Plenteous perfume everywhere; There in summer gladioles grew Parallels of scarlet glare.

The memory of what we’ve lost Is with us more than what we’ve wo… Perhaps because we count the cost By what we could, yet have not don… ‘Twixt act and purpose fate hath d…

So we had come at last, my soul an… Into that land of shadowy plain an… On which the dawn seemed ever abou… On which the day seemed ever about… Long had we sought fulfillment of…

I CAME upon a pool that shone, Clear, emerald-like, among the hil… That seemed old wizards round a st… Of magic that a vision thrills. And as I leaned and looked, it se…

Deep-hearted roses of the purple d… And lilies of the morn; And cactus, holding up a slender t… Of fragrance on a thorn; All heavy flowers, sultry with the…

Morning Her rain-kissed face is fresh as r… Is cool and fresh as a rain-wet le… She glimmers at my window-pane, And all my grief

There is a scent of roses and spil… Between the moonlight and the laur… The marble idol glimmers on its sh… White as a star, among a heaven of… Here all my life lies like a spilt…

Below, the tawny Tagus swept Past royal gardens, breathing balm… Upon his couch the monarch slept; The world was still; the night was… Gray, Gothic-gated, in the ray

More than cakes or anything I like tales of shivering. Once a scarecrow on a hill Tossed his ragged arms at me That was when I went to see

Below the sunset’s range of rose, Below the heaven’s deepening blue, Down woodways where the balsam blo… And milkweed tufts hang, gray with… A Jersey heifer stops and lows–