Yet when the challenge rang,
" The War-Lord comes ; give room ! "
26 lines
Still for your frontier stands
The host that knew no dread,
4 lines
Will they blot also out your name
Because you praise
33 lines
Within, the pillars soar to gloom
Lit by the glimmering Rose ;
35 lines
IT was the very heart of Peace that thrilled
In the deep minster-bell's wide-throbbing sound
18 lines
But sudden in the hush between
Death and the doomed, there stands
11 lines
Amid the thunder of the guns,
The lightnings of the lance and sword
11 lines
But from that blood, those ashes there arose
Not hoped-for terror cowering as it ran,
21 lines
Sleep, sleep on Mother's breast, Child, my child!
23 lines
Shabby house--wall Of bricks once yellow,
24 lines
She is not fair, as some are fair, Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay:
71 lines
My boat swings out and back, Moored among mint and rush.
13 lines
``Haste thee, Harold, haste thee North! Norway ships in Humber crowd.
107 lines
Round apples, burning upon the apple boughs, As the evening flush withdraws,
24 lines
This is the man who, sole in Britain, sole In Europe, by profounder instinct knew
15 lines
The Mother to her brooding breast Her shrouded baby closely holds,
9 lines
And were they but for this, those passionate schemes Of joy, that I have nursed? indeed for this
47 lines
Trees are for lovers. A spirit has led them
29 lines
Often we talk of the house that we will build For airier and less jostled days than these
96 lines
Songs of the world unborn Swelling within me, a shoot from the heart of Spring,
64 lines
Linger not, linger not, lift your glasses. Mirth shall come, as misery passes.
669 lines
She is eight years old. When she laughs, her eyes laugh;
35 lines
From the howl of the wind As I opened the door
19 lines
In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs,
19 lines
In a patch of baked earth At the crumbled cliff's brink,
24 lines
The long road lures across the hill, Divides the brown fields and the green,
14 lines
I dream of western waters, and of the Seven Isles, And of mornings when they appear
19 lines
If I could sing the song of her Who makes my heart to sing;
19 lines
Towering, towering up to the noon--blaze, Up to the hot blue, up to blinding gold,
76 lines
The Golden Gallery lifts its aery crown O'er dome and pinnacle: there I leaned and gazed.
31 lines
|