Lo! Death has reared himself a throneIn a strange city lying aloneFar down within the dim West,Where the good and the bad and the worst and the bestHave gone to their eternal rest.There shrines and palaces and towers(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)Resemble nothing that is ours.Around, by lifting winds forgot,Resignedly beneath the skyThe melancholy waters…
From childhood’s hour I have not beenAs others were—I have not seenAs others saw—I could not bringMy passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone—And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—Then—in my childhood—in the dawnOf a most stormy life—was drawnFrom ev’ry…
If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,And…
She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that’s best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes;Thus mellowed to that tender lightWhich heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less,Had half impaired the nameless graceWhich waves in every raven tress,Or softly lightens…
In visions of the dark nightI have dreamed of joy departed—But a waking dream of life and lightHath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by dayTo him whose eyes are castOn things around him with a rayTurned back upon the past? That holy dream—that holy dream,While all the world were chiding,Hath cheered…
Thank Heaven! the crisis,The danger, is past,And the lingering illnessIs over at last—And the fever called “Living”Is conquered at last. Sadly, I knowI am shorn of my strength,And no muscle I moveAs I lie at full length—But no matter!—I feelI am better at length. And I rest so composedly,Now, in my bed,That any beholderMight fancy…
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,With drowsy head and folded wing,Among the green leaves as they shakeFar down within some shadowy lake,To me a painted paroquetHath been- a most familiar bird-Taught me my alphabet to say-To lisp my very earliest wordWhile in the wild wood I did lie,A child- with a most knowing eye….
Helen, thy beauty is to meLike those Nicéan barks of yore,That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,The weary, way-worn wanderer boreTo his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam,Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,Thy Naiad airs have brought me homeTo the glory that was Greece,And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon…