They who go down to the relentless… After long horrible death of cold… Ere the last spark of flickering l… Give to the bitter waves that o’er… The secret of their agony to keep;

But to be still! oh, but to cease… The panting breath and hurrying st… The sights, the sounds, the strugg… Of hourly being; the sharp, biting… Of action, fretting on the tighten…

Early in life, when hope seems pro… And strong desire can sometimes mo… My dream was of thy shores, O Ita… Of thy blue deep, that even for a… Will not forsake its spicy pine-gi…

By the pure spring, whose haunted… Through thy sequestered dell unto… At sunny noon, I will appear to t… Not troubling the still fount with… As when I last took leave of it,…

Life wanes, and the bright sunligh… Sets o’er the mountain-tops, where… O Innocence! O Trustfulness! O… Where are ye all, white-handed sis… Who with me on my way did walk alo…

The sea has left the strand’€” In their deep sapphire cup The waves lie gathered up, Off the hard-ribbed sand. From each dark rocky brim

WRITTEN FOR THE 22 OF AU… Darkness upon the mountain and the… Forest and field are bathed in dew… And the night angels vigil o’er th… No sound, no motion; over hill and…

The end is come: in thunder and wi… Autumn has stormed the golden hous… She going—lingers yet—sweet glance… Of kind farewell upon the land she… And leaves. No more the sunny lan…

I know a maiden with a laughing fa… And springing feet like wings;—the… Forth from the radiant dancing of… Is full of mischievous and mirthfu… I know a maiden you might scarce t…

Oh make not light of love, my lady… For, from that sweetest source dot… All that is likest heaven on earth… Ill it beseems who worthiest love… To scoff at their own worship;—if…

And I Am reading, too, my book of memory… With eyelids closed, over the cres… And the blue, marbled sea, I seek… All present things forgotten, on t…

Farewell awhile, beautiful Italy! My lonely bark is launched upon th… That clasps thy shore, and the sof… Breathes from thy coast, and fills… Ere morning dawn, a colder breeze…

The waterfall is calling me With its merry gleesome flow, And the green boughs are beckoning… To where the wild flowers grow: I may not go, I may not go,

Have you not heard that in some de… The Dead retain in beauty undistu… The very countenance they living w… But if forbidden yearning vainly c… To look upon the hidden face once…

My feet shall tread no more thy mo… When once they turn away, thou Pl… Nor ever more, reflected in thy ti… Will shine the eyes of the White… But often in my dreams, when I am…