English

The Green Hunters went ridin';
They swept down the night
Through hollows of shadow
An' pools of moonlight;
Their steeds' shoes of soft silver,
They blew ne'er a horn,
But trampled a highway
Among the ripe corn.

I looked from the half-door,
They never saw me,
For each one kept wavin'
A slip of a tree;
'Twas black as the yewan,
An' whiter than may.
An' red as the sally
That goes the wind's way.

The Green Hunter came ridin'
Back to Gore Wood;
Though they heard my lips movin',

A green eye — and a red — in the dark,
Thunder — smoke — and a spark.

It is there — it is here — flashed by.
Whither will the wild thing fly?

It is rushing, tearing through the night,
Rending her gloom in its flight.

It shatters her silence with shrieks.
What is it the wild thing seeks?

Alas! for it hurries away
Them that are fain to stay.

Hurrah! for it carries home
Lovers and friends that roam.

Green Buddhas
On the fruit stand.
We eat the smile
And spit out the teeth.

I

Greece was; Greece is no more.
Temple and town
Have crumbled down;
Time is the fire that hath consumed them all.
Statue and wall
In ruin strew the universal floor.

II

Greece lives, but Greece no more!
Its ashes breed
The undying seed
Blown westward till, in Rome's imperial towers,
Athens reflowers;
Still westward — lo, a veiled and virgin shore!

III

Say not, " Greece is no more. "
Through the clear morn
On light winds borne

The Grecian Muse, to earth who bore
Her goblet filled with wine of gold,
Dispersed the frown that Ages wore
Upon their foreheads grim and cold,
What time the lyric thunders rolled.

O'er this new Eden of the West
The mightier Muse enkindles now:
Her joy-lyre fashions in my breast,
And wreathes the song-crown for my brow,
Ere yeTher loftier powers avow.

Though like Tithonus old and gray,
I serve her mid the swords and shields;
Her being opens for my way,
And there I find Elysian fields;

The greatest saints and sinners have been made
Of proselytes of one another's trade.

Greatest of virtues is humility
As Solomon saith, son of sapience,
Most was accept unto the Deity:
Taketh heed hereof, giveth to his words credence.

How Maria, which had a preminence
Above all women, in Bedlem when she lay
At Christes birth, no cloth of great dispence,
She weared a coverchief, horns were cast away.

Made stable in God by ghostly confidence
This Rose of Jericho, there grew none such in May
Poor in spirit, perfect in patience,
In whom all horns of pride were put away.

The great unequal conflict past,
The Briton banished from our shore,
Peace, heaven-descended, comes at last,
And hostile nations rage no more;
From fields of death the weary swain
Returning, seeks his native plain.

In every vale she smiles serene,
Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise,
New charms she adds to every scene,

Great truths are dearly bought. The common truth,
— Such as men give and take from day to day,
Comes in the common walks of easy life,
— Blown by the careless wind across our way.

Bought in the market, at the current price,
— Bred of the smile, the jest, perchance the bowl,
It tells no tale of daring or of worth,
— Nor pierces even the surface of a soul.

Great truths are greatly won. Not found by chance,
— Nor wafted on the breath of summer dream,
But grasped in the great struggle of the soul,

TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS

Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room,
Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes,
On whose full orbs, with kindly lustre, lies
The twilight warmth of ruddy ember-gloom:
Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring sudden bloom
Of hope secure, to him who lonely cries,
Wrestling with the young poet's agonies,
Neglect and scorn, which seem a certain doom:
Yes! the few words which, like great thunder-drops,
Thy large heart down to earth shook doubtfully,