Robert Crawford Poems

When morn is wandering on the seas,
And birds are singing in the trees,
And all the time is flushed with flowers,
...

Without us and within us mind is all;
The truth of life and knowledge still are one,
And though all be a dream, yet in the dream
...

Jove himself moves in the abyss
As in the heights he goes;
The God is so in all that is,
...

Juliet will never rise
In her passion's paradise;
Dust is in her ears and eyes.
And time too, as all men know,
...

There is so much in us is
godlike still,
Love lifts us to heaven
that is ours.
...

Comes the night that brings me rest,
Comes the dark that folds me in
This of all my nights the best,
...

The dew fell on her upturned brow
That is as white's the lily;
The moonlight in her yellow hair,
In her hand a daffodilly;
...

And what think ye of Shakespeare? 'Twas not he
Of Stratford is the lord of England's lyre;
Ay, not the rustic lad, whoe'er it be,
...

Priests indeed may prate
This side o' death, but 'yond the bourne
...

I have put by the schoolmen,
The seeming great and sage;
Nor will I taste the vintage
Brewed in the vats of Age;
...