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Showing: 1-10 results of 17

ASTROPHEL AFTER READING SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S ARCADIA IN THE GARDEN OF AN OLD ENGLISH MANOR HOUSE I A star in the silence that followsThe song of the death of the sunSpeaks music in heaven, and the hollowsAnd heights of the world are as one;One lyre that outsings and outlightensThe rapture of sunset, and thrillsMute night till the sense of it brightensThe soul that it fills. The flowers of the sun that is sunkenHang heavy of heart as of... more...

JOSEPH MAZZINI 1867 Upon a windy night of stars that fell  At the wind's spoken spell,Swept with sharp strokes of agonizing light  From the clear gulf of night,Between the fixed and fallen glories one  Against my vision shone,More fair and fearful and divine than they  That measure night and day,And worthier worship; and within mine eyes  The formless folded skiesTook shape and were unfolded... more...

DEDICATION TO MY MOTHER Love that holds life and death in fee,Deep as the clear unsounded seaAnd sweet as life or death can be,Lays here my hope, my heart, and meBefore you, silent, in a song.Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace,When half sung through, before your face,It needs must live a springtide space,While April suns grow strong. March 24, 1896. THE TALE OF BALEN I In hawthorn-time the heart grows light,The world is sweet in... more...

THE HIGHER PANTHEISMIN A NUTSHELL One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is:Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under:If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt:We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye... more...

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE The first great English poet was the father of English tragedy and the creator of English blank verse. Chaucer and Spenser were great writers and great men: they shared between them every gift which goes to the making of a poet except the one which alone can make a poet, in the proper sense of the word, great. Neither pathos nor humor nor fancy nor invention will suffice for that: no poet is great as a poet whom no one... more...


ATHENS AN ODE Ere from under earth again like fire the violet kindle, [Str. 1.Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom,Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle,Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month's tomb,Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom brightened,Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride,Up from under earth again a light that long since lightenedBreaks,... more...

SONG FOR THE CENTENARY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 1. Five years beyond an hundred years have seenTheir winters, white as faith's and age's hue,Melt, smiling through brief tears that broke between,And hope's young conquering colours reared anew,Since, on the day whose edge for kings made keenSmote sharper once than ever storm-wind blew,A head predestined for the girdling greenThat laughs at lightning all the seasons through,Nor frost or change... more...

HOPE AND FEAR Beneath the shadow of dawn's aerial cope,With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere,Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheerLooks Godward, past the shades where blind men gropeRound the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope,And makes for joy the very darkness dearThat gives her wide wings play; nor dreams that fearAt noon may rise and pierce the heart of hope.Then, when the soul leaves off to dream and yearn,May truth... more...

THALASSIUS Upon the flowery forefront of the year,One wandering by the grey-green April seaFound on a reach of shingle and shallower sandInlaid with starrier glimmering jewelleryLeft for the sun's love and the light wind's cheerAlong the foam-flowered strandBreeze-brightened, something nearer sea than landThough the last shoreward blossom-fringe was near,A babe asleep with flower-soft face that gleamedTo sun and seaward as it laughed and... more...

MARCH: AN ODE 1887 I Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,The ways of the woodlands were fairer and stranger than dreams that fulfil us in sleep with delight;The breath of the mouths of the winds had hardened on tree-tops and branches that glittered and swayedSuch wonders and glories of blossomlike snow or of frost that outlightens all flowers till it fadeThat the sea was not... more...