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The evening comes, the fields are still.
121 lines
Mist clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses
90 lines, 2 comments
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
39 lines, 21 comments
Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
16 lines, 1 comment
We were apart; yet, day by day,
I bade my heart more constant be.
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In this lone, open glade I lie,
Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand;
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We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides;
36 lines, 2 comments
"Not by the justice that my father spurn'd,
Not for the thousands whom my father slew,
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Savez-vous quelque bien qui console du regret d'un
monde?--OBERMANN.
350 lines
Set where the upper streams of Simois flow
Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood;
24 lines, 1 comment
Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
32 lines, 1 comment
Strew on her roses, roses,
And never a spray of yew!
16 lines
Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
38 lines, 3 comments
Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask--Thou smilest and art still,
14 lines, 2 comments
IS it so small a thing
To have enjoy'd the sun,
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THROUGH the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.
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Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame;
52 lines, 1 comment
Far, far from here,
The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay
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'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,
And ease from shame, and rest from fear.
25 lines, 3 comments
Even in a palace, life may be led well!
So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,
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Faster, faster,
O Circe, Goddess,
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Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused
With rain, where thick the crocus blows,
210 lines, 2 comments
IN THIS fair stranger’s eyes of grey
Thine eyes, my love, I see.
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And the first grey of morning fill'd the east,
And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream.
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'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
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What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
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A region desolate and wild.
Black, chafing water: and afloat,
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In his cool hall, with haggard eyes,
The Roman noble lay;
44 lines, 1 comment
As the kindling glances,
Queen-like and clear,
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I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
52 lines, 4 comments
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