It was the Great Alexander, Capped with a golden helm, Sate in the ages, in his floating ship,
Roses are sweet to smell and see, And lilies on the stem; But rarer, stranger buds there be,
Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, 'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets,
There is a wind where the rose was; Cold rain where sweet grass was; And clouds like sheep
I have heard a lady this night, Lissom and jimp and slim, Calling me - calling me over the heather,
Where the bluebells and the wind are, Fairies in a ring I spied, And I heard a little linnet
The old, old King of Cumberland Awoke with bristling beard - Crouched listening in the darkness
Be gentle, O hands of a child; Be true: like a shadowy sea In the starry darkness of night
Heavenly Archer, bend thy bow; Now the flame of life burns low, Youth is gone; I, too, would go.
No lovelier hills than thine have laid My tired thoughts to rest: No peace of lovelier valleys made
The words you said grow faint; The lamp you lit burns dim; Yet, still be near your faithless friend
When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes, Nor the rain make lamentation
Thou canst not see him standing by - Time - with a poppied hand Stealing thy youth's simplicity,
One night as Dick lay half asleep, Into his drowsy eyes A great still light begins to creep
Beside the blaze of forty fires Giant Grim doth sit, Roasting a thick-woolled mountain sheep
I saw three witches That bowed down like barley, And took to their brooms 'neath a louring sky,
I saw three witches That bowed down like barley, And straddled their brooms 'neath a louring sky,
I spied John Mouldy in his cellar, Deep down twenty steps of stone; In the dusk he sat a-smiling,
Longlegs - he yelled "Coo-ee!" And all across the combe Shrill and shrill it rang - rang through
Longlegs - he yelled 'Coo-ee!' And all across the combe Shrill and shrill it rang - rang through
I watched the Lady Caroline Bind up her dark and beauteous hair; Her face was rosy in the glass,
Three and thirty birds there stood In an elder in a wood; Called Melmillo - flew off three,
Come, Death, I'd have a word with thee; And thou, poor Innocency; And love - a Lad with broken wing;
Mrs. Earth makes silver black, Mrs. Earth makes iron red But Mrs. Earth can not stain gold,
All from the light of the sweet moon Tired men lie now abed; Actionless, full of visions, soon
Often I've heard the Wind sigh By the ivied orchard wall, Over the leaves in the dark night,
Not any flower that blows But shining watch doth keep; Every swift changing chequered hour it knows
When Queen Djenira slumbers through The sultry noon's repose, From out her dreams, as soft she lies,
When Sam goes back in memory, It is to where the sea Breaks on the shingle, emerald-green,
With changeful sound life beats upon the ear; Yet striving for release The most delighting string's
O for a moon to light me home! O for a lanthorn green! For those sweet stars the Pleiades,
Black as a chimney is his face, And ivory white his teeth, And in his brass-bound cart he rides,
Once when my life was young, I, too, with Spring's bright face By mine, walked softly along,
Has anybody seen my Mopser? - A comely dog is he, With hair of the colour of a Charles the Fifth,
Dearest, it was a night That in its darkness rocked Orion's stars; A sighing wind ran faintly white
O thou who giving helm and sword, Gav'st, too, the rusting rain, And starry dark's all tender dews
Why does he still keep ticking? Why does his round white face Stare at me over the books and ink,
See this house, how dark it is Beneath its vast-boughed trees! Not one trembling leaflet cries
I met a sailor in the woods, A silver ring wore he, His hair hung black, his eyes shone blue,
I heard along the early hills, Ere yet the lark was risen up, Ere yet the dawn with firelight fills
Come, Death, I'd have a word with thee; And thou, poor Innocency; And Love - a lad with broken wing;
'Lady Jane, O Lady Jane! Your hound hath broken bounds again, And chased my timorous deer, O;
Art thou asleep? or have thy wings Wearied of my unchanging skies? Or, haply, is it fading dreams
In the black furrow of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she cocked a lissome ear,
Hark! is that a horn I hear, In cloudland winding sweet - And bell-like clash of bridle-rein,
When the light of day declineth, And a swift angel through the sky Kindleth God's tapers clear,
Who beckons the green ivy up Its solitary tower of stone? What spirit lures the bindweed's cup
Isled in the midnight air, Musked with the dark's faint bloom, Out into glooming and secret haunts
Still, and blanched, and cold, and lone, The icy hills far off from me With frosty ulys overgrown
A very, very old house I know- And ever so many people go, Past the small lodge, forlorn and still,
You hunted me with all the pack, Too blind, too blind, to see By no wild hope of force or greed
'Build me my tomb,' the Raven said, 'Within the dark yew-tree, So in the Autumn yewberries
I was at peace until you came And set a careless mind aflame. I lived in quiet; cold, content;
When the last colours of the day Have from their burning ebbed away, About that ruin, cold and lone,
All winter through I bow my head Beneath the driving rain; The North wind powders me with snow
As Ann came in one summer's day, She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house,
Sweep thy faint Strings, Musician, With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn,
A wolf he pricks with eyes of fire Across the night's o'ercrusted snows, Seeking his prey,
Far are those tranquil hills, Dyed with fair evening's rose; On urgent, secret errand bent,
If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin,
After the songless rose of evening, Night quiet, dark, still, In nodding cavalcade advancing
As I did walk in meadows green I heard the summer noon resound With call of myriad things unseen
Behind the blinds I sit and watch The people passing - passing by; And not a single one can see
Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty A hundred years ago, All through the night with lantern bright
They told me Pan was dead, but I Oft marvelled who it was that sang Down the green valleys languidly
If thou art sweet as they are sad Who on the shores of Time's salt sea Watch on the dim horizon fade
Far inland here Death's pinions mocked the roar Of English seas; We sleep to wake no more,
Low on his fours the Lion Treads with the surly Bear', But Men straight upward from the dust
Ever before my face there went Betwixt earth's buds and me A beauty beyond earth's content,
None, none can tell where I shall be When the unclean earth covers me; Only in surety if thou cry
Where is my love - In silence and shadow she lies, Under the April-grey, calm waste of the skies;