On the East Devon Coast
LIE still, old Dane, below thy heap!
A sturdy-back and sturdy-limb,
Whoe’er he was, I warrant him
Upon whose mound the single sheep
Browses and tinkles in the sun,
Within the narrow vale alone.
Lie still,...
The Monument outlasting bronze
Was promised well by bards of old;
The lucid outline of their lay
Its sweet precision keeps for aye,
Fixed in the ductile language-gold.
But we who work with smaller skill,
And less refined material mould,—...
For Night and Morning
THOU that once, on mother’s knee,
Wast a little one like me,
When I wake or go to bed
Lay thy hands about my head:
Let me feel thee very near,
Jesus Christ, our Saviour dear.
Be beside me in the light,
Close...
