Helen's lips are drifting dust;
Ilion is consumed with rust;
All the galleons of Greece
Drink the ocean's dreamless peace;
These are the best of him,
Pathos and jest of him;
Earth holds the rest of him.
ROUGH pasture where the blackberries grow!—
It bears upon its churlish face
No sign of beauty, art, or grace;
Thou dreamer with the million moods,
Of restless heart like me,
Lay thy white hands against my breast
SUCH hints as untaught Nature yields!
The calm disorder of the sea,
The straggling splendor of the fields,
The wind’s gay incivility.