Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot.
The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.
All is well, tho' faith and form Be sunder'd in the night of fear.
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.
Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good, And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save me lest I die?
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
Her court was pure, her life serene; God gave her peace; her land reposed; A thousand claims to reverence closed.
And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.
Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights; She heard the torrents meet.
Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all? ...Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying learnt, In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true? ‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.’ - Tithonus
For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of precedent, that wilderness of single instances.
Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Though Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.
And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
We love but while we may; And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.
The jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.
Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.
Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air That pure severity of perfect light I yearned for warmth and colour which I found In Lancelot.
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.
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