Know you the low pervading breeze That softly sings In the trembling leaves of twiligh… As if the wind were dreaming on it… And have you marked their still de…

Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in hi… Has earth beneath his wings: from… He views the rosy dawn. In vain t… The fatal web below while far he f… But when the arrow strikes him, th…

He who has looked upon Earth Deeper than flower and fruit, Losing some hue of his mirth, As the tree striking rock at the r… Unto him shall the marvellous tale

Now the North wind ceases, The warm South-west awakes; Swift fly the fleeces, Thick the blossom-flakes. Now hill to hill has made the stri…

Rich labour is the struggle to be… While we make sure the struggle ca… Else better were it in some bower… Slothful to swing, contending with… You point at Wisdom fixed on loft…

Of me and of my theme think what t… The song of gladness one straight… But I have never stood at Fortune… Were she and her light crew to run… At my poor holding little would be…

‘Sirs! may I shake your hands? My countrymen, I see! I’ve lived in foreign lands Till England’s Heaven to me. A hearty shake will do me good,

How sweet on sunny afternoons, For those who journey light and we… To loiter up a hilly rise Which hides the prospect far beyon… And fancy all the landscape lying

[Iliad, B. XI. V. 148] These, then, he left, and away whe… Onward rushed, and with him rushed… Foot then footmen slew, that were… Horse at the horsemen (up from off…

With Alfred and St. Louis he dot… Grander than crowned head’s mortua… His gentle heroic manhood enters i… The ever-flowering common heart fo…

To sit on History in an easy chai… Still rivalling the wild hordes by… Sure, this beseems a race of lagga… Unwarned by those plain letters sc… If more than hands’ and armsful be…

When the Head of Bran Was firm on British shoulders, God made a man! Cried all beholders. Steel could not resist

They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a stri…

No, no, the falling blossom is no… Of loveliness destroy’d and sorrow… The blossom sheds its loveliness d… Its mission is to prophecy the fru… Nor is the day of love for ever de…

Fair and false! No dawn will gree… Thy waking beauty as of old; The little flower beneath thy feet Is alien to thy smile so cold; The merry bird flown up to meet