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!
We chose the faint chill morning, friend and friend,
Pacing the twilight out beneath an oak,
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?
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