The shrines of old are broken down… The faiths that knelt at them are… Nothing’s strange, and nought unkn… All’s been done and all been said. Tired of knowledge, now we sigh

Warm, the deserted evening Closes over the moor. Was it here we walked and were mer… Only an hour before? Magic light in the west

What shall I say to thee, my spir… Unaccountably conquered, where tho… Life, that, yesterday, the sun’s o… Darkened now, like a train of capt… Alas! ’tis an old trouble, vainly…

He stands on high in the torch—gla… With planted feet, with lifted axe… Behind, a gulf of crimsoned air; Beneath, the old wall that gapes a… Tossed fragments crash to dust and…

As over English earth I gaze, Bare down, deep lane, and coppice—… Green hill, and distance lost in b… Horizon of this homely ground, A light that glows as from within

I lay upon my bed in the great nig… The sense of my body drowsed; But a clearness yet lingered in th… By soft obscurity housed. As an inn to a traveller on a long…

Songs of the world unborn Swelling within me, a shoot from t… As I walk the ample teeming stree… This tranquil and misty morn, What is it to me you sing?

What alters you, familiar lawn and… Arched alley, and garden green to… With crumbling crevice and the old… Solitary in summer sun? for all Is like a dream: I tread on dream…

She is eight years old. When she laughs, her eyes laugh; Light dances in her eyes; She tosses back her long hair And with a song replies;

Familiar, year by year, to the cre… Is the long road’s level ridge abo… To—day a battery comes with horses… On the straight road, that under t… At leisurely pace, the guns with m…

Lusty life her river pours Along a road of shining shores. The moon of August beams Mild as upon her harvest slopes; b… From man’s full—breath’d abounding…

O love, in whose heart—murmured na… Is charm against life’s endless wr… Since all the untuned world became In you a song! I bring not only all I wrought

By white St. Martin’s, where the… And plashed unheard in the busy mo… March, with rippling shadow and su… Laughing riotous round the gusty s… From frail narcissus heaped in bas…

Heroes, whose days are told, Above whose bodies brave Presses the heavy, cold, And quenching wave! Ye sleep: but your bright fame,

Beautiful, cold, freshness of ligh… The black masts, mirrored with the… The hill—gloom and the sleeping wh… Up magical faint heights of fading… I hear the waves, on the long shin…