The birds against the April wind Flew northward, singing as they flew;
They sang, "The land we leave behind Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew
" "O wild-birds, flying from the South, What saw and heard ye, gazing do...
Here, in the withered arbor, like the arrested wind,
Straight sides, carven knees,
Stands the statue, with hands flung out in alarm Or remonstrances
Over the lintel sway the woven bracts of the vine In a pattern of angles
Within a budding grove, In April's ear sang every bird his best, But not a song to pleasure my unrest, Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love; Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest
To every word Of every bird I listen'd, and ...
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour
I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet,
Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and
The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me
And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still: "A b...
I Once, only once,
I saw it clear, —That Eden every human heart has dreamedA hundred times, but always far away
Ah, well do I remember how it seemed,
Through the still
The firetail tells the boys when nests are
And tweets and flies from every passer-bye
The yellowhammer never makes a
But flies in silence from the noisy boys;
I am constantly reminded of the bygone
Those garden's springs, those chorus of
Gone are the freedoms of our own
Where we could come and go at our own
The roc wings fanwise,
Soaring ninety thousand
And rousing a raging cyclone
The blue sky on his back, he looks
Birds singing in the dark—Rainy dawn
'O spare my cherries in the net,'Brother Benignus prayed; 'and I Summer and winter, shine and wet,
Will pile the blackbirds' table high
' 'O spare my youngling peas,' he prayed,'That for the Abbot's table be;
And every blackbird sha...
Out of the bosom of the Air Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow
Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape i...