By the warm road—side, where chest… The brightness shaded, supine, at… A felon, freed that morn, Lay idle, and wondered, gazing up… O strange no more to be one of a b…

When Bahram rode to the chase, Then saw ye his soul’s delight Full on his kingly face. Who could his steed outpace? He swooped like a falcon’s flight;

No sound in all the mountains, all… Yet hush! one delicate sound, minu… Makes the immense Silence draw mo… Some secret ripple of running wate… As a delight that hides from alien…

Out of the day—glare, out of all u… Hurrying in ways disquieted, bring… To silence, and earth’s ancient pe… That with profounder vision I may… In dew—baptizing dimness let me lo…

Rending the waters of a night unkn… The ship with tireless pulses bore… On the shadowy deck musing late an… Over waste ocean. The rustling of the cordage in the…

O wailing gust, what hast thou bro… What sting of desolation? But an… And brave was every shy new—opened… Smiling in sun beneath a budding t… Now over black hills the skies sto…

The dripping of the boughs in sile… Softly; the low note of some linge… Amid the weeping vapour; the chill… Of solitary evening upon all That stirs and hopes and apprehend…

Tarry a moment, happy feet, That to the sound of laughter glid… O glad ones of the evening street, Behold what forms are at your side… You conquerors of the toilsome day

Time has stored all, but keeps his… In secret, beyond all our probe or… There flows the human story, vast… And here a muddy trickle smears th… The things our hearts remember mak…

AN ODE Soul of England, dost thou sleep, Lulled or dulled, thy mighty youth… Of the world’s wine hast thou drun… Hast thou sown more than thy hands…

Beautifully dies the year. Silence sleeps upon the mere: Yellow leaves float on it, stilly As, in June, the opened lily. Brushing o’er the frosty grass

In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching b… His cradled limbs would house. On the airy bed that rocked him

A child in nature, as a child in y… If on past hours she turn remember… She but beholds sweet joys or gent… Flower hiding flower in her pure m… So flower—like, so lovely do they…

No, though our all be spent– Heart’s extremest love, Spirit’s whole intent, All that nerve can feel, All that brain invent,-

Who enters here, beneath this guar… Feels over him a tender sky of lea… Dearer than heaven: at once his ey… Strange quiet: fathomless as water… Above far—sunken ships, this lumin…