酷兔英语

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Nor yet so high the hill.

An awful sense of quietness,
A fulness of repose,

Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,
The silent garden rows.

As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse
Heard far across a plain,

A nearer knowledge of great thoughts
Thrills vaguely through my brain.

I lean my head upon my arm,
My heart's too full to think;

Like the roar of seas, upon my heart
Doth the morning stillness sink.

AFTER READING "ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA"
AS when the hunt by holt and field

Drives on with horn and strife,
Hunger of hopeless things pursues

Our spirits throughout life.
The sea's roar fills us aching full

Of objectless desire -
The sea's roar, and the white moon-shine,

And the reddening of the fire.
Who talks to me of reason now?

It would be more delight
To have died in Cleopatra's arms

Than be alive to-night.
I KNOW NOT HOW, BUT AS I COUNT

I KNOW not how, but as I count
The beads of former years,

Old laughter catches in my throat
With the very feel of tears.

SPRING SONG
THE air was full of sun and birds,

The fresh air sparkled clearly.
Remembrance wakened in my heart

And I knew I loved her dearly.
The fallows and the leafless trees

And all my spirit tingled.
My earliest thought of love, and Spring's

First puff of perfume mingled.
In my still heart the thoughts awoke,

Came lone by lone together -
Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love

A mere affair of weather?
THE SUMMER SUN SHONE ROUND ME

THE summer sun shone round me,
The folded valley lay

In a stream of sun and odour,
That sultry summer day.

The tall trees stood in the sunlight
As still as still could be,

But the deep grass sighed and rustled
And bowed and beckoned me.

The deep grass moved and whispered
And bowed and brushed my face.

It whispered in the sunshine:
"The winter comes apace."

YOU LOOKED SO TEMPTING IN THE PEW
YOU looked so tempting in the pew,

You looked so sly and calm -
My trembling fingers played with yours

As both looked out the Psalm.
Your heart beat hard against my arm,

My foot to yours was set,
Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek

Whenever they two met.
O little, little we hearkened, dear,

And little, little cared,
Although the parson sermonised,

The congregation stared.
LOVE'S VICISSITUDES

AS Love and Hope together
Walk by me for a while,

Link-armed the ways they travel
For many a pleasant mile -

Link-armed and dumb they travel,
They sing not, but they smile.

Hope leaving, Love commences
To practise on the lute;

And as he sings and travels
With lingering, laggard foot,

Despair plays obligato
The sentimental flute.

Until in singing garments
Comes royally, at call -

Comes limber-hipped Indiff'rence
Free stepping, straight and tall -

Comes singing and lamenting,
The sweetest pipe of all.

DUDDINGSTONE
WITH caws and chirrupings, the woods

In this thin sun rejoice.
The Psalm seems but the little kirk

That sings with its own voice.
The cloud-rifts share their amber light

With the surface of the mere -
I think the very stones are glad

To feel each other near.
Once more my whole heart leaps and swells

And gushes o'er with glee;
The fingers of the sun and shade

Touch music stops in me.
Now fancy paints that bygone day

When you were here, my fair -
The whole lake rang with rapid skates

In the windless winter air.
You leaned to me, I leaned to you,

Our course was smooth as flight -
We steered - a heel-touch to the left,

A heel-touch to the right.
We swung our way through flying men,

Your hand lay fast in mine:
We saw the shifting crowd dispart,

The level ice-reach shine.
I swear by yon swan-travelled lake,

By yon calm hill above,
I swear had we been drowned that day

We had been drowned in love.
STOUT MARCHES LEAD TO CERTAIN ENDS

STOUT marches lead to certain ends,
We seek no Holy Grail, my friends -

That dawn should find us every day
Some fraction farther on our way.

The dumb lands sleep from east to west,
They stretch and turn and take their rest.

The cock has crown in the steading-yard,
But priest and people slumber hard.

We two are early forth, and hear
The nations snoring far and near.

So peacefully their rest they take,
It seems we are the first awake!

- Strong heart! this is no royal way,
A thousand cross-roads seek the day;

And, hid from us, to left and right,
A thousand seekers seek the light.

AWAY WITH FUNERAL MUSIC
AWAY with funeral music - set

The pipe to powerful lips -
The cup of life's for him that drinks

And not for him that sips.
TO SYDNEY

NOT thine where marble-still and white
Old statues share the tempered light

And mock the uneven modern flight,
But in the stream

Of daily sorrow and delight
To seek a theme.

I too, O friend, have steeled my heart
Boldly to choose the better part,

To leave the beaten ways of art,
And wholly free

To dare, beyond the scanty chart,
The deeper sea.

All vain restrictions left behind,
Frail bark! I loose my anchored mind

And large, before the prosperous wind
Desert the strand -

A new Columbus sworn to find
The morning land.

Nor too ambitious, friend. To thee
I own my weakness. Not for me

To sing the enfranchised nations' glee,
Or count the cost

Of warships foundered far at sea
And battles lost.

High on the far-seen, sunny hills,
Morning-content my bosom fills;

Well-pleased, I trace the wandering rills
And learn their birth.

Far off, the clash of sovereign wills
May shake the earth.

The nimblecircuit of the wheel,
The uncertain poise of merchant weal,

Heaven of famine, fire and steel
When nations fall;

These, heedful, from afar I feel -
I mark them all.

But not, my friend, not these I sing,
My voice shall fill a narrower ring.

Tired souls, that flag upon the wing,
I seek to cheer:

Brave wines to strengthen hope I bring,
Life's cantineer!

Some song that shall be suppling oil
To weary muscles strained with toil,

Shall hearten for the daily moil,
Or widely read

Make sweet for him that tills the soil
His daily bread.

Such songs in my flushed hours I dream
(High thought) instead of armour gleam

Or warrior cantos ream by ream
To load the shelves -

Songs with a lilt of words, that seem
To sing themselves.

HAD I THE POWER THAT HAVE THE WILL
HAD I the power that have the will,

The enfeebled will - a modern curse -
This book of mine should blossom still

A perfect garden-ground of verse.
White placidmarble gods should keep



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