Now england lessens on my sight;
The bastioned front of Wales,
Discolored and indefinite,
There like a cloud-wreath sails:
A league, and all those thronging hills
Must sink beneath the sea;
But while one touch of Memory thrills,
They yet shall stay with me.
I claim no birthright in yon sod,
Though thence my...
Soul unto SOUL GLOOMS DARKLING
DISGUISE upon disguise, and then disguise,
Equivocations at the rose’s heart,
Life’s surest pay a poet’s forgeries,
The gossamer gold coinage of our art.
Why hope for truth? Thy very being slips,
Lost from thee, in thy crowd of masking moods.
Why hope for love? Between quick-kissing lips
Is room and...
