THE day's high work is over and done,
And these no more will need the sun:
Blow, you bugles of England, blow!
These are gone where all must go,
...
Friends… old friends…
One sees how it ends.
A woman looks
Or a man lies,
...
Once on a time
There was a little boy: a master-mage
By virtue of a Book
...
Was I a Samurai renowned,
Two-sworded, fierce, immense of bow?
A histrion angular and profound?
A priest? a porter?--Child, although
...
Some three, or five, or seven, and thirty years;
A Roman nose; a dimpling double-chin;
Dark eyes and shy that, ignorant of sin,
...
Bring her again, O western wind,
Over the western sea!
Gentle and good and fair and kind,
...
Praise the generous gods for giving
In a world of wrath and strife,
With a little time for living,
Unto all the joy of life.
...
Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle;
...
Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me.
...
Crosses and troubles a-many have proved me.
One or two women (God bless them) have loved me.
I have worked and dreamed, and I’ve talked at will.
...