A Fragment
I WILL go out to grass with that old King,
For I am weary of clothes and cooks.
I long to lie along the banks of brooks,
And watch the boughs above me sway and swing.
Come, I will pluck off custom’s livery,
Nor longer be a lackey to old Time,
Time shall serve me, and at my feet shall fling
The spoil of listless minutes....
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Passion and pain, the outcry of despair,
The pang of the unattainable desire,
And youth’s delight in pleasures that expire,
And sweet high dreamings of the good and fair
Clashing in swift soul-storm, through which no prayer
Uplifted stays the destined death-stroke dire.
Then through a mighty sorrowing, as through fire,
The soul... -
A Fragment
[May 1, 1898]
BY Cavité on the bay
’T was the Spanish squadron lay;
And the red dawn was creeping
O’er the city that lay sleeping
To the east, like a bride, in the May.
There was peace at Manila,
In the May morn at Manila,—
When ho, the Spanish admiral
Awoke to find our line
Had passed by gray...