• I have gathered these stories afar

    In the wind and the rain,

    In the land where the cattle-camps are,

    On the edge of the Plain.

    On the overland routes of the west,

    When the watches were long,

    I have fashioned in earnest and jest

    These fragments of song.


    They are just the rude...

  • Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn

    Indicative that suns go down ;

    The notice to the startled grass

    That darkness is about to pass.

  • Presentiment — is that long Shadow — on the Lawn —

    Indicative that Suns go down —


    The Notice to the startled Grass

    That Darkness — is about to pass —

  •  
    A Pretty Epigram for the Entertainment of those who have Paid Great Sums in the Venetian & Flemish Ooze[4]


    Nature & Art in this together Suit

    What is Most Grand is always most Minute

    Rubens thinks Tables Chairs & Stools are Grand...

  • UPON this Primrose hill,
    Where, if heaven would distil

    A shower of rain, each several drop might go

    To his own primrose, and grow manna so;

    And where their form, and their infinity
    ...

  • A prisoner in a dungeon deep

    Sat musing silently;

    His head was rested on his hand,

    His elbow on his knee.

    Turned he his thoughts to future times

    Or are they backward cast?

    For freedom is he pining now

    Or mourning for the past?


    No, he has lived so long enthralled

    ...

  • TAKE heed of loving me;

    At least remember, I forbade it thee;

    Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste

    Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears,

    By being to thee then what to me thou wast;

    But so great joy our life at once outwears.

    Then, lest...

  • To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,

    To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;

    To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,

    Live o’er each scene, and be what they behold:

    For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage,

    Commanding tears to stream thro’ ev’ry age:

    Tyrants no more their savage nature...

  •         Thou brave old Titan, that in chains didst lie,

                Bound to the rock on the Caucasian hill,

            Who by sublime endurance didst defy

                Imperial Jove and all his shapes of ill;

            As I invoke thy spirit here to-day, --

                From the old Pagan world thou speak'st to me,
    ...

  • Promise This — When You be Dying —

    Some shall summon Me —

    Mine belong Your latest Sighing —

    Mine — to Belt Your Eye —


    Not with Coins — though they be Minted

    From an Emperor's Hand —

    Be my lips — the only Buckle

    Your low Eyes — demand —


    Mine to stay — when all have...