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Believe, if ever the bridges of this town, Whose towers are builded without fault or stain, Be taken, and its battlements go down, No mortal roof shall shelter me again: I shall not prop a branch against a bough To…
Hearing your words, and not a word among themTuned to my liking, on a salty dayWhen inland woods were pushed by winds that flung themHissing to leeward like a ton of spray,I thought how off Matinicus the tideCame pounding in,…
Clearly my ruined garden as it stoodBefore the frost came on it I recall—Stiff marigolds, and what a trunk of woodThe zinnia had, that was the first to fall;These pale and oozy stalks, these hanging leavesNerveless and darkened, dripping in…
Most wicked words!—forbear to speak them out.Utter them not again; blaspheme no moreAgainst our love with maxims learned from Doubt:Lest Death should get his foot inside the door.We are surrounded by a hundred foes;And he that at your bidding joins…
Sorrowful dreams remembered after waking Shadow with dolour all the candid day; Even as I read, the silly tears out-breaking Splash on my hands and shut the page away . . . . Grief at the root, a dark and…
Time, that is pleased to lengthen out the dayFor grieving lovers parted or denied,And pleased to hurry the sweet hours awayFrom such as lie enchanted side by side,Is not my kinsman; nay, my feudal foeIs he that in my childhood…
When we that wore the myrtle wear the dust,And years of darkness cover up our eyes,And all our arrogant laughter and sweet lustKeep counsel with the scruples of the wise;When boys and girls that now are in the loinsOf croaking…
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drinkNor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the…
Heart, have no pity on this house of bone:Shake it with dancing, break it down with joy.No man holds mortgage on it; it is your own;To give, to sell at auction, to destroy.When you are blind to moonlight on the…
When we are old and these rejoicing veinsAre frosty channels to a muted stream,And out of all our burning their remainsNo feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream,This be our solace: that it was not saidWhen we were young…