Ah! well I know that I shall never find
Thy like this side of Heaven! Well I know
That whether on the ways of dream I go,
...
Tho I die on a distant strand,
And they give me a grave in that land,
Yet carry me back to my own city!
Carry me back to her grace and pity!
...
John o' Dreams fled North, fled North,
Led by a certain star,
Till he came to peaks that he could not
climb,
...
Sad Autumn is the miser of thy gold;
But dead and meek
Thy petals speak
More than thy beauty told.
...
O'er Carmel fields in the springtime the sea-gulls follow the plow.
White, white wings on the blue above!
White were your brow and breast, O Love!
But I cannot see you now.
...
At the end of our streets is sunrise;
At the end of our streets are spars;
At the end of our streets is sunset;
...
Indifferent to a world in agony,
The drunken wasters crowd the cabaret,
Whose midnight orgies end but with the day.
...
The boulders lie along the downs;
The turf is hard between;
The Channel waves are low this dawn,
And turf and wave are green.
...
As music out of silence, Craig, so came
Thy love from mystery; so, darling, now
The lilies are less radiant than thy brow,
...
KEEP ye her brow with starshine crost
And bind with ghostly light her hair,
O powers benign, lest I accost
Song's peaceless angel unaware!
...