I try to knead and spin, but my life is low the while.
Oh, I long to be alone, and walk abroad a mile;
Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all,
Why from me that's young should the wild tears fall?
In Doric Hall, Massachussetts State House
Dear witnesses, all-luminous, eloquent,
Stacked thickly on the tessellated floor!
Open, Time, and let him pass
Shortly where his feet would be!
Like a leaf at Michaelmas
Swooning from the tree,
Above the wall that's broken,
And from the coppice thinned,
So sacred and so sweet
The lilac in the wind!
A man said unto his Angel:
"My spirits are fallen low,
And I cannot carry this battle:
O brother! where might I go?
We chose the faint chill morning, friend and friend,
Pacing the twilight out beneath an oak,
THERE in his room, whene’er the moon looks in,
And silvers now a shell, and now a fin,
And o’er his chart glides like an argosy,
High-hearted Surrey! I do love your ways,
Venturous, frank, romantic, vehement,
All with inviolate honor sealed and blent,
To the axe-edge that cleft your soldier-bays:
GOOD oars, for Arnold’s sake,
By Laleham lightly bound,
And near the bank, O soft,
SUCH natural debts of love our Oxford knows,
So many ancient dues undesecrate,
I marvel how the landmark of a hate