Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls
Of water, sheets of summer glass,
28 lines
BANNER of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast thou
Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle-cry!
118 lines
Gigantic daughter of the West,
We drink to thee across the flood,
24 lines
We move, the wheel must always move,
Nor always on the plain,
12 lines
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
16 lines
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
76 lines
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
44 lines
Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?
Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saäy.
60 lines
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
So loud with voices of the birds,
20 lines
Dip down upon the northern shore
O sweet new-year delaying long;
16 lines
Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: the seed,
Th
26 lines
I wage not any feud with Death
For changes wrought on form and face;
16 lines
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
And howlest, issuing out of night,
28 lines
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän;
68 lines
"So careful of the type?" but no.
From scarped cliff and quarried stone
28 lines
The path by which we twain did go,
Which led by tracts that pleased us well,
20 lines
'Your ringlets, your ringlets,
That look so golden-gay,
54 lines
Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:
What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang)
31 lines
You say, but with no touch of scorn,
Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes
24 lines
How fares it with the happy dead?
For here the man is more and more;
16 lines
To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
20 lines
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
12 lines
The baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
16 lines
With trembling fingers did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
32 lines
Old Yew, which graspest at the stones
That name the under-lying dead,
16 lines
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
20 lines
Old warder of these buried bones,
And answering now my random stroke
12 lines
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
20 lines
O loyal to the royal in thyself,
And loyal to thy land, as this to thee--
66 lines
The wish, that of the living whole
No life may fail beyond the grave,
20 lines
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