He halted in the wind, and, what was that Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? He stood there bringing March against his thought, And yet too ready to believe the most. ...
A blossom pink, a blossom blue, Make all there is in love so true. 'Tis fit, methinks, my heart to move, To give it thee, sweet girl, I love! Now, take it, dear, this morn and wear...
Abou Swen Anson (he ban yolly dog) Ban asleep von night so sound lak log, Ven all at vonce he tenk it sure ban day. "Ay skol vake op now," Maester Anson say. But, ven he vake, it ant ban day at all,...
I know in your song, dzhigit, there is A flame and love to the native land. But the warrior is famous not for his song: What tell me, have you done in the war? Have you stood up for your motherland...
One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand To tired little May. "Come, go with me to Wonderland," She said, "I know the way. Just rock-a-by - hum-m-m, And lo! we come...
A blanket low and leaden, Though rent across the west, Whose darkness seems to deaden The brightest and the best; A sunset white and staring On cloud-wrecks far away,...
There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not, On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot. Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,...
'Tis glorious morning everywhere Save where the alleys lie, I see the fleecy steam jets bid 'Good morning' to the sky. The gullies of the waratah Are near, with fall and pool,...
Honor and pity for the smitten field, The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn, Whose want must famish love morn after morn, Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed...
St. Francis, Buddha, Tolstoi, and St. John - Friends, if you four, as pilgrims, hand in hand, Returned, the hate of earth once more to dare, And walked upon the water and the land, ...
And can this be my own world? 'Tis all gold and snow, Save where scarlet waves are hurled Down yon gulf below. 'Tis thy world, 'tis my world, City, mead, and shore, For he that hath his own world...
We went by ways of bygone days, Up mountain heights of story, Where lost in vague, historic haze, Tradition, crowned with battle-bays, Sat 'mid her ruins hoary.
Out of the noise of tired people working, Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead, His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing, Clean boyish beauty and high-held head....
"Gabble-gabble,... brethren,... gabble-gabble!" My window frames forest and heather. I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whether The text is praise or exhortation,...
These are our regulations, There's just one law for the Scout And the first and the last, and the present and the past, And the future and the perfect is "Look out!" I, thou and he, look out!...
It's out and away at break of day, To frolic and run in the sun-sweet hay: It's up and out with a laugh and shout Let the old world know that a boy's about. ...
Dear mother, dry those flowing tears, They grieve me much to see; And calm, oh! calm thine anxious fears - What dost thou dread for me? 'Tis true that tempests wild oft ride Above the stormy main,...
'Tis fine to play In the fragrant hay, And romp on the golden load; To ride old Jack To the barn and back, Or tramp by a shady road. To pause and drink, At a mossy brink;...