Beneath that grievous cry

"Dickens is dead!" Distrust that word

Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time.

Each on his own strict line we move
Enough of tears, ye gods, enough of wail

Fair is her cottage

Fair is our lot

Fair ship that from the Italian shore

Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies
Far, far aloof from Olympus and the thunder.

Fill the cup, and fill the can
Fly! thy brisk unmeaning buzz
For against all men from of old
Fresh from the summer wave
From his adventurous prime.

From strength to strength, from love to love
From the uttermost bound

Go away, Death.

God of our fathers, known of old.

God send me tears!

Green fields of England!
Glaucopis forsakes her own

Hark! what dancing footsteps fall

Hapless doom of woman

He hears with gladdened heart the thunder

He holds a dubious balance.

He will achieve his greatness

How far thro' all the bloom and brake

Ah!.

How light it moves, how softly!
How wonderful in a bereaved ear.
Hushed is each busy shout

I ask thee for a kiss no more

I chide with thee not

I come from haunts of coot and hern

I hear the noise about thy keel

I hid my heart in a nest of roses

I looked upon the world and saw

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I too have suffered; yet I know

I wage not any feud with Death

If she but knew that I am weeping
It fortifies my soul to know.

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes.
In Vierstädten .

In youth the artist voweth lover's VOWS

Joy has not found her yet, nor ever will.

Last, as by some one deathbed after wail
Last night, among his fellows rough
Let Grief be her own mistress still.

Let praise devote thy work, and skill employ
Lips, lips open
Live-yet live

•

Love flew in at the window

Love, strong as Death, is dead

Loitering and leaping .
Looking on a page where stood

Man, thoughtless man, whose moments quickly fly
My days pass pleasantly away

My fairest child, I have no song to give you
My good blade carves the casques of men
Music and frankincense of flowers belong

Now first we stand and understand

O born in days when wits were fresh and clear
O lieb', so lang du lieben kannst!.

O scorner of the party cry

O sweetest face of all the faces

O to be up and doing, O

Of all my verse like not a single line
Of old betwixt the Gods and Earth
Of old sat Freedom on the heights
Oh, earlier shall the rosebuds blow
Oh, like a queen's her happy tread
Old poets fostered under friendlier skies.

Once more the Heavenly Power
One feast, of holy days the crest
On the great streams the ships may go

Peace and her huge invasion to these shores
Perhaps there's neither tear nor smile
Progress, man's distinctive mark alone
Push off the boat

Put forth thy leaf, thou lofty plane

Quenched is the lamp, ev'n in its flickering dear

Raise the light, my page! that I may see her .

Risest thou thus dim dawn again
Row us out from Desenzano.

She loved the Autumn, I the Spring
Should fickle hands in far-off days.
So spake he, half in anger, half in scorn
So the Queen Boadicea

Spare them your pity; 'tis unmeet

Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat
Stop! not to me at this bitter departing
Strange Isle of Voices! must we ask in vain
Sweet babe, true portrait of thy father's face

Sweet mistress of the ivory keys

•

Sweetest sweets that Time has rifled

Sudden the desert changes

Summer is coming, summer is coming

Tell me not now, if love for love.

'Tis well: 'tis something; we may stand

The beasts in field are glad

The carven pillars of the trees
The day's high work is over and done

The hawk slipt out of the pine

That man is surely in the wrong
The little summer of St. Luke

The moon and stars were overhead

The night has a thousand eyes
The seasons change

The sun shall prosper the season's yield .
The sun is not abed when I

The statue-Buonarotti said-doth wait.
The time admits not flowers or leaves

The unfathomable sea.

·

The voice grew faint, there came a further change
The world goes up and the world goes down.
The wrack was dark an' shiny

Then, for a little moment, all people held their breath
Then on the brows of the maiden .

Then rose the king, and moved his host by night

Then that old Seer made answer

Then what charm company

Thence we turned, what time the blackbird

There is no flock, however watched

There lies a vale in Ida

There rolls the deep

There once was a lady of Troy

There was once a maiden of Smyrna

Their leader was false Sextus

There's nothing great or bright, thou glorious Fall

These having halted bade blow horns

This little life is all we must endure

This is the Chapel, here, my son
Think not thy wisdom can illume away
Thou waitest for the spark from Heaven
Thus far our way is clear

Thy voice is heard through rolling drums
Thy voice is on the rolling air

To Art we go as to a well

To sing the nation's song

To my true King I offered free from stain
Tho' Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod
Thou dost to rich attire a grace

Under Olympus divinity-haunted.

Vain is the effort to forget

Vainly were the words of parting spoken
Voltaire, O Christian souls! for this was sent.

We have seen thee, O Love,

Weeping, weeping late and early

What may we take into the vast Forever

What sights were theirs in that blest wonderland
What shall the brave in soul attain

When all the world is young, lad

When I am dead, my dearest

When Spring comes laughing by vale and hill

Where sunless rivers weep

When the Gods heard, they straight arose

While she brooded thus

Whither, midst falling dew

Who has not walked upon the shore
Who will say the world is dying

Who is the champion? who the strong
Within a squalid city court
Would that the structure brave

·

Ye have not sowed in vain

Ye wells, ye founts that fall.

Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember

You love all, you say

You'll carry the flag
Your fogs hang black on the chimney-stack