Awake, My Heart
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake! The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break, It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake The o’ertaken moon. Awake, O heart, awake! She too that
Absence
When my love was away, Full three days were not sped, I caught my fancy astray Thinking if she were dead, And I alone, alone: It seem’d in my misery In all the world
Lord Kitchner
Unflinching hero, watchful to foresee And face thy country’s peril wheresoe’er, Directing war and peace with equal care, Till by long toil ennobled thou wert he Whom England call’d and bade “Set my arm
While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry
While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry And blackening east that so embitters March, Well-housed must watch grey fields and meadows parch, And driven dust and withering snowflake fly; Already in
Nimium Fortunatus
I have lain in the sun I have toil’d as I might, I have thought as I would, And now it is night. My bed full of sleep, My heart full of content For
On a Dead Child
Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee, With promise of strength and manhood full and fair! Though cold and stark and bare, The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain
Low Barometer
The south-wind strengthens to a gale, Across the moon the clouds fly fast, The house is smitten as with a flail, The chimney shudders to the blast. On such a night, when Air has
To the President of Magdalen College, Oxford
Since now from woodland mist and flooded clay I am fled beside the steep Devonian shore, Nor stand for welcome at your gothic door, ‘Neath the fair tower of Magdalen and May, Such tribute,
Nightingales
Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come, And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams, wherefrom Ye learn your song: Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there, Among the flowers,