Tremulous out of that long darknes… Wast thou, O blossom, made Upon the wintry bough? What drew thee to appear, Like a thought in the mind,

All paths lead upward to the sky In this green isle, which mounts o… Through slumbrous valleys, veiled… From waters dancing blue and brigh… And on those leafy paths appear

Name, that makes my heart beat, Heard by chance in the throng’d st… How delighted I turn to greet The vision adored, the vision rare… That surely should be where thou a…

The Golden Gallery lifts its aery… O’er dome and pinnacle: there I l… Is this indeed my own familiar tow… This busy dream? Beneath me sprea… In distance large it lay, nor noth…

In misty blue the lark is heard Above the silent homes of men; The bright—eyed thrush, the little… The yellow—billed sweet—voiced bla… Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd

I think of a flower that no eye ev… That springs in a solitary air. Is it no one’s joy? It is beautif… Without a kingdom’s care. We have built houses for Beauty,…

What far—off trouble steals In soft—blown drifts of glimmering… What is it the wind feels, What sighing of what old home—seek… Among the hurried footsteps and th…

O Weariness, that writest histori… On all these human faces, and O S… That somewhere silence hears! You… It seems, in the old earth’s deep—… Your way of solace is a different…

Pale are the words I build for my… To house in; pale as the chill mis… An ardent morn. My fire to others… But dimly burns through the frail… I cast but shadows from my inward…

Down through the heart of the dim… The laden, jolting waggons come. Tall pines, chained together, They carry; stems straight and bar… Now no more in their own solitudes

Our voices break on a stillness br… Of early morning. Pines upon eith… People the sunshine: deep as eye c… Their lofty throngs in a darkling… Our sandy path, new—washed with ra…

My boat swings out and back, Moored among mint and rush. The river’s ruffled speed Laughs in the white wind’s track. My idle fingers crush

In the breathing of a breath— How, who shall say? Ghostly mist has flowered Into flaming day. Dewy from furze to furze

Gaunt on the cloudy plain Stand the great Stones, Dwarfed in the vast reach Of a sky that owns All the measure of earth

Nothing of itself is in the still’… A still submission to each exterio… Still as a pool, accepting trees a… A candid mirror that never a breat… Nor drifted leaf,—as if of a singl…