They wrong’d not us, nor sought 'g… The bitter battle. On their God t… For succour, deeming justice to ab… In heaven, if banish’d from earth’… And when they rose with a gall’d l…

Our men, they are our stronghold, Our bastioned wall unscaled, Who, against Hate and Wrong, hold This Realm that never quailed; Who bear the noblest burden

Strange the world about me lies, Never yet familiar grown– Still disturbs me with surprise, Haunts me like a face half known. In this house with starry dome,

What! and shall _we_, with such su… As age demands in reverence from t… Await these crumbs of praise from… And doubt of our own greatness til… The signet of your Goethes or Vol…

Eldest born of powers divine! Bless’d Hygeia! be it mine To enjoy what thou canst give, And henceforth with thee to live: For in power if pleasure be

A letter from abroad. I tear Its sheathing open, unaware What treasure gleams within; and t… Like bird from cage– Flutters a curl of golden hair

First, ere I slake my hunger, let… The giver of the feast. For feast… Though of ethereal, translunary fa… His story who pre-eminently of men Seemed nourished upon starbeams an…

As drones a bee with sultry hum When all the world with heat lies… Thou dronest through the drowsèd l… To lose thyself and find the sea. As fares the soul that threads the…

So, being risen, the Prince in br… Forth to the market-place, where b… Of them that bought and them that… Of many sounds in murmurous union– buzzing as of bees about their hiv…

Ere vandal lords with lust of gold… Deface each hallowed hillside we r… Ere cities in their million-throat… Menace each sacred mere— Let us give thanks because one noo…

Come hither, who grow cloyed to su… With lyric draughts o’ersweet, fro… On Hybla not Parnassus mountain:… With beakers rinsed of the dulcifl… Hither, and see a magic miracle

It was a skipper of Lowestoft That trawled the northern sea, In a smack of thrice ten tons and… And the Britain’s Pride

What profits it, O England, to pr… In camp and mart and council, and… With argosies thy oceans, and rene… With tribute levied on each golden… Thy treasuries, if thou canst hear…

Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, Who cannot from their shadow flee. I do but win a short reprieve, ‘Scaping to pleasure and to thee. I may, at best, a moment’s grace,

Thine were the weak, slight hands That might have taken this strong… Its stubborn substance to thy soft… And bound it unresisting, with suc… As not the arm of envious heaven h…