Ode On The Insurrection In Candia
STR. 1 I laid my laurel-leaf At the white feet of grief, Seeing how with covered face and plumeless wings, With unreverted head Veiled, as who mourns his dead, Lay Freedom couched between the
Siena
Inside this northern summer’s fold The fields are full of naked gold, Broadcast from heaven on lands it loves; The green veiled air is full of doves; Soft leaves that sift the sunbeams let
Change
But now life’s face beholden Seemed bright as heaven’s bare brow With hope of gifts withholden But now. From time’s full-flowering bough Each bud spake bloom to embolden Love’s heart, and seal his vow.
Recollections
I. Years upon years, as a course of clouds that thicken Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers, Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requicken Years upon years. Surely the
In Memory of Walter Savage Landor
Back to the flower-town, side by side, The bright months bring, New-born, the bridegroom and the bride, Freedom and spring. The sweet land laughs from sea to sea, Filled full of sun; All things
Messidor
Put in the sickles and reap; For the morning of harvest is red, And the long large ranks of the corn Coloured and clothed as the morn Stand thick in the fields and deep
Aperotos Eros
Strong as death, and cruel as the grave, Clothed with cloud and tempest’s blackening breath, Known of death’s dread self, whom none outbrave, Strong as death, Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath, Fierce
The Oblation
Ask nothing more of me, sweet; All I can give you I give. Heart of my heart, were it more, More would be laid at your feet: Love that should help you to live,
Dedication To Christina G. Rossetti
Songs light as these may sound, though deep and strong The heart spake through them, scarce should hope to please Ears tuned to strains of loftier thoughts than throng Songs light as these. Yet
In Harbour
I. Goodnight and goodbye to the life whose signs denote us As mourners clothed with regret for the life gone by; To the waters of gloom whence winds of the dayspring float us Goodnight
Sleep
Sleep, when a soul that her own clouds cover Wails that sorrow should always keep Watch, nor see in the gloom above her Sleep, Down, through darkness naked and steep, Sinks, and the gifts
A Clasp Of Hands
SOFT, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet. A babe’s hands open as to greet The tender touch
A Singing Lesson
Far-fetched and dear-bought, as the proverb rehearses, Is good, or was held so, for ladies: but nought In a song can be good if the turn of the verse is Far-fetched and dear-bought. As
Three Faces
I. VENTIMIGLIA The sky and sea glared hard and bright and blank: Down the one steep street, with slow steps firm and free, A tall girl paced, with eyes too proud to thank The
The Many
Greene, garlanded with February’s few flowers Ere March came in with Marlowe’s rapturous rage; Peele, from whose hand the sweet white locks of age Took the mild chaplet woven of honored hours; Nash, laughing