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"Dickens is dead!" Beneath that grievous cry 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

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Fair ship that from the Italian shore

Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies

Far, far aloof from Olympus and the thunder

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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

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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

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

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I ask thee for a kiss no more

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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

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Looking on a page where stood

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

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My fairest child, I have no song to give you

My good blade carves the casques of men

Music and frankincense of flowers belong

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Now first we stand and understand

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O born in days when wits were fresh and clear

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O lieb', so lang du lieben kannst!.

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Of old sat Freedom on the heights

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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

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Thence we turned, what time the blackbird

There is no flock, however watched

There lies a vale in Ida

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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

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Think not thy wisdom can illume away
Thou waitest for the spark from Heaven
Thus far our way is clear

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

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Tho' Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod

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

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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

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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

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Your fogs hang black on the chimney-stack

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