Prince of Bards was old Aneurin; He the grand Gododin sang; All his numbers threw such fire in… Struck his harp so wild a twang; - Still the wakeful Briton borrows

The day that is the night of days, With cannon-fire for sun ablaze We spy from any billow’s lift; And England still this tidal drif… Would she to sainted forethought v…

Once I was part of the music I he… On the boughs or sweet between ear… For joy of the beating of wings on… My heart shot into the breast of t… I hear it now and I see it fly,

Awakes for me and leaps from shrou… All radiantly the moon’s own night Of folded showers in streamer clou… Our shadows down the highway white Or deep in woodland woven-boughed,

Under what spell are we debased By fears for our inviolate Isle, Whose record is of dangers faced And flung to heel with even smile? Is it a vaster force, a subtler gu…

We spend our lives in learning pil… And grow good steersmen when the v… Gap-toothed he spake, and with a t… Sidled to gain the sunny bench of… It is the sentence which completes…

This was the woman; what now of th… But pass him. If he comes beneath… He shall be crushed until he canno… Or, being callous, haply till he c… But he is nothing:—nothing? Only…

[Iliad; B. XI V. 378] So he, with a clear shout of laugh… Forth of his ambush leapt, and he… ‘Hit thou art! not in vain flew th… Into the undermost gut, therewith…

Young captain of a crazy bark! O tameless heart in battered frame… Thy sailing orders have a mark, And hers is not the name. For action all thine iron clanks

Musing on the fate of Daphne, Many feelings urged my breast, For the God so keen desiring, And the Nymph so deep distrest. Never flashed thro’ sylvan valley

‘Heigh, boys!’ cried Grandfather… He lifted the crumpled letter, and… Up jumped all the echoing young on… Said, 'Father, before we make noi… The old man glared at him harshly,…

Leave the uproar: at a leap Thou shalt strike a woodland path, Enter silence, not of sleep, Under shadows, not of wrath; Breath which is the spirit’s bath

The sister Hours in circles linke… Daughters of men, of men the mates… Are gone on flow with the day that… With the night that spanned at gol… Mothers, they leave us, quickening…