English

The foot-hills called us, green and sweet.
We dallied, but we might not stay,
And all day long we set our feet
In the wind's way.

We climbed with him the wandering trail
Up to the last keen, lonely height
Where snow-peaks clustered, sharp and frail,
Swimming in light.

Sheer on the edge of heaven we dwelt,
And laughed above the blue abyss,
While on my happy lips I felt
Your windy kiss.

You were the spirit of the height,
The breath of sun and air . . .
A bird dipped wing, and, swift and white,

A FOOL there was, and she lowered her pride,
(Even as you and I),
To a bunch of conceit in a masculine hide —
We saw the faults that could not be denied,
But the fool saw only his manly side,
(Even as you and I).

Oh, the love she laid on her own heart's grave,
With care of her head and hand,
Belongs to the man who did not know,
(And now she knows that he never could know),
And did not understand.

A fool there was and her best she gave,
(Even as you and I),
Of noble thoughts, of gay and grave,

In an English Distick.

A Fool much bit by fleas put out the light,
You shall not see me now (quoth he) good night.

Follow , follow me into the South,
And if you are brave and wise
I'll buy you laughter for your mouth,
Sorrow for your eyes.

I'll buy you laughter, wild and sweet,
And sorrow, gray and still,
But you must follow with willing feet
Over the farthest hill.

Follow, follow me into the South,
You may return to-morrow
Wearing my kisses on your mouth,
In your eyes my sorrow.

Follow, follow,
Though with mischief
Arm'd, like whirlwind
Now she flies thee;
Time can conquer
Love's unkindness;
Love can alter
Time's disgraces:
Till death faint not
Then, but follow.
Could I catch that
Nimble traitor
Scornful Laura,
Swift-foot Laura,
Soon then would I
Seek avengement
What's th' avengement?
Ev'n submissly
Prostrate then to
Beg for mercy.

Lovely ter of lovely eye,
Why dost thou me so wo?
Sorful ter of sorful eye,
Thou brekst myn herte a-two.

Thou sikest sore,
Thy sorwe is more
Than mannes mouth may telle;
Thou singest of sorwe
Mankin to borwe
Out of the pit of helle.

I proud and kene,
Thou meke and clene
Withouten wo or wile;
Thou art ded for me,
And I live through thee —
So blissed be that while! ...

Thyn herte is rent,
Thy body is bent
Upon the roode-tree;
The weder is went,

The fog is freezing on the trees and shrubs;
Each tendril of the larch is edged with lace;
The tiniest twigs are filigreed with frost;
There is faint movement through an open space —
And lovely white ghosts wake mysteriously
Like white thoughts smiling through gray memory.

To Robert Gould Shaw

Flushed with the hope of high desire,
— He buckled on his sword,
To dare the rampart ranged with fire,
— Or where the thunder roared;
Into the smoke and flame he went,
— For God's great cause to die —
A youth of heaven's element,
— The flower of chivalry.

This was the gallant faith, I trow,
— Of which the sages tell;
On such devotion long ago
— The benediction fell;
And never nobler martyr burned,
— Or braver hero died,
Than he who worldly honor spurned

Flowrets — wreaths — thy banks along —
Silent eve — th'accustomed song —
Silver-slippered — whilom — lore —
Druid — Paynim — mountain hoar —
Dulcet — eremite — what time —
( " Excuse me — here I want a rhyme.")
Black-browed night — Hark! screech-owls sing!
Ebon car — and raven wing —
Charnel-houses — lonely dells —
Glimmering tapers — dismal cells —
Hallowed haunts — and horrid piles —
Roseate hues — and ghastly smiles —
Solemn fanes — and cypress bowers —
Thunder-storms — and tumbling towers —

The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.