My soul was like the sea. Before the moon was made, Moaning in vague immensity, Of its own strength afraid, Unresful and unstaid.

One kiss from all others prevents… And sets all my pulses astir, And burns on my lips and torments… ’Tis the kiss that I fain would g… One kiss for all others requites m…

Our love is not a fading earthly f… Its wingèd seed dropped down from… And, nursed by day and night, by s… Doth momently to fresher beauty ri… To us the leafless autumn is not b…

THEY are slaves who fear to spea… For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choos… Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink

Of all the myriad moods of mind That through the soul come throngi… Which one was e’er so dear, so kin… So beautiful as Longing? The thing we long for, that we are

The sea is lonely, the sea is drea… The sea is restless and uneasy; Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary… Wandering thou knowest not whither… Our little isle is green and breez…

O dwellers in the valley-land, Who in deep twilight grope and cow… Till the slow mountain’s dial-hand Shorten to noon’s triumphal hour, While ye sit idle, do ye think

God sends his teachers unto every… To every clime, and every race of… With revelations fitted to their g… And shape of mind, nor gives the r… Into the selfish rule of one sole…

Gone, gone from us! and shall we s… Those sibyl-leaves of destiny, Those calm eyes, nevermore? Those deep, dark eyes so warm and… Wherein the fortunes of the man

God! do not let my loved one die, But rather wait until the time That I am grown in purity Enough to enter thy pure clime, Then take me, I will gladly go,

God makes sech nights, all white a… Fur 'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an’ snow on field an’ hi… All silence an’ all glisten. Zekle crep’ up quite unbeknown

The rich man’s son inherits lands, And piles of brick and stone, and… And he inherits soft white hands, And tender flesh that fears the co… Nor dares to wear a garment old;

In his tower sat the poet Gazing on the roaring sea, ‘Take this rose,’ he sighed, 'and… Where there’s none that loveth me. On the rock the billow bursteth

THOUGH old the thought and oft… ’Tis his at last who says it best, I’ll try my fortune with the rest. Life is a leaf of paper white Whereon each one of us may write