She was a lady great and splendid,
I was a minstrel in her halls.
14 lines
Strange the world about me lies,
Never yet familiar grown--
16 lines
When birds were songless on the bough
I heard thee sing.
8 lines
Few friends are mine, though many wights there be
Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim
14 lines
As some most pure and noble face,
Seen in the thronged and hurrying street,
12 lines
In the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
24 lines
I
England my mother,
100 lines
That beauty such as thine
Can die indeed,
15 lines
(12TH OCTOBER 1492)
From his adventurous prime
33 lines
I asked of heaven and earth and sea,
Saying: "O wondrous trinity,
24 lines
Seven moons, new moons, had eastward set their horns
Averted from the sun; seven moons, old moons,
315 lines
I
Wave and wind and willow-tree
22 lines
Westward a league the city lay, with one
Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold,
26 lines
Last night the seawind was to me
A metaphor of liberty,
12 lines
I
As drones a bee with sultry hum
18 lines
Thine were the weak, slight hands
That might have taken this strong soul, and bent
15 lines
Here, peradventure, in this mirror glassed,
Who gazes long and well at times beholds
14 lines
I saunter all about the pleasant place
You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me;
14 lines
SHE stands, a thousand-wintered tree,
By countless morns impearled;
19 lines
Dawn - and a magical stillness: on earth, quiescence profound;
On the waters a vast Content, as of hunger appeased and stayed;
8 lines
Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung,
Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes,
40 lines
HE sits above the clang and dust of Time,
With the world's secret trembling on his lip.
13 lines
MY little maiden two years old, just able
To tower full half a head above the table,
10 lines
NO courtier this, and naught to courts he owed,
Fawned not on thrones, hymned not the great and callous,
12 lines
The mighty poets from their flowing store
Dispense like casual alms the careless ore;
10 lines
'Twas at this season, year by year,
The singer who lies songless here
84 lines
Youth! ere thou be flown away.
Surely one last boon to-day
12 lines
A letter from abroad. I tear
Its sheathing open, unaware
85 lines
Five-and-thirty black slaves,
Half-a-hundred white,
32 lines
Come hither, who grow cloyed to surfeiting
With lyric draughts o'ersweet, from rills that rise
12 lines
|