IF curses be the wage of love, Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, Not to be named: It is clear Why the gods will not appear; WHEN wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. SHUN passion, fold the hands of thrift, Suddenly it will uplift Your eyelids to the sphere: THE rules to men made evident ON bravely through the sunshine and the showers! Time hath his work to do and we have ours. THE BOHEMIAN HYMN IN many forms we try To utter God's infinity, But the boundless hath no form, And the Universal Friend Doth as far transcend An angel as a worm. The great Idea baffles wit, It leaves the learned in the lurch; GRACE How much, preventing God, how much I owe INSIGHT POWER that by obedience grows, PAN O WHAT are heroes, prophets, men, blow A momentary music. Being's tide Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms MONADNOC FROM AFAR DARK flower of Cheshire garden, Thy sombre head with rosy hues Well the Planter knew how strongly SEPTEMBER IN the turbulent beauty Of a gusty Autumn day, Poet on a sunny headland Sighed his soul away. Farms the sunny landscape dappled, Swandown clouds dappled the farms, Cattle lowed in mellow distance Where far oaks outstretched their arms, Sudden gusts came full of meaning, Oh, south winds have long memories, I cannot tell rude listeners Half the tell-tale South-wind said,- EROS THEY put their finger on their lip, The seas their islands clip, OCTOBER OCTOBER Woods wherein The boy's dream comes to pass, And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, Color and sound, music to eye and ear, Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. |