Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts

Are they blind, the lords of Gaza In their strong towers, Who declare Samson pillow—smother… And stripped of his powers? O stolid Philistines,

To bring the dead to life Is no great magic. Few are wholly dead: Blow on a dead man’s embers And a live flame will start.

We found the little captain at the… His men lay well-aligned. We touched his hand—stone cold—and… And they, all dead behind, Had never reached their goal, but…

IT’S hard to know if you’re alive… When steel and fire go roaring thr… One moment you’ll be crouching at… Traversing, mowing heaps down half… The next, you choke and clutch at…

Beauty in trouble flees to the goo… On whom she can rely To pay her cab—fare, run a steamin… Poultice her bruised eye; Will not at first, whether for sha…

A page, a huntsman and a priest of… Her lovers, met in jealous contrar… Equally claiming the sole parentho… Of him the perfect crown of their… Then, whom to admit, herself she c…

I now delight In spite Of the might And the right Of classic tradition,

Nine of the clock, oh! Wake my lazy head! Your shoes of red morocco, Your silk bed—gown: Rouse, rouse, speck—eyed Mary

Children born of fairy stock Never need for shirt or frock, Never want for food or fire, Always get their hearts desire: Jingle pockets full of gold,

‘Gabble—gabble . . . brethren . .… My window glimpses larch and heath… I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whethe… The text is praise or exhortation,

Blacksmith Green had three strong… With bread and beef did fill 'em, Now John and Ned are perished and… But plenty remains of William. John Green was a whiskey drinker,

Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write grea… I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the great…

Love without hope, as when the you… Swept off his tall hat to the Squ… So let the imprisoned larks escape… Singing about her head, as she rod…

When outside the icy rain Comes leaping helter—skelter, Shall I tie my restive brain Snugly under shelter? Shall I make a gentle song