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arms artist BALTIMORE beauty blue breath Bring calm child cloud cried dark dawn dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fain fair faith fall fear fire give grace grass grave green hand hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly height hell hills hold hope King Lady land Lanier leaves light live look Lord marsh Master mind morn never night o'er once pain pass passion play poet quoth rich rose round sail seemed sense shame shine sigh sing smile song soul sound spring stand stars strange sweet tears thee thine things thou thought Till Trade tree true turn voice wave West wife wild wind wing woods wrought
139 psl. - INTO the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came. Out of the woods my Master went, And He was well content. Out of the woods my Master came, Content with death and shame. When Death and Shame would woo Him last, From under the trees they drew Him last : 'Twas on a tree they slew Him ...
248 psl. - Long as thine Art shall love true love, Long as thy Science truth shall know, Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove, Long as thy Law by law shall grow, Long as thy God is God above, Thy brother every man below, So long, dear Land of all my love, Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow!
60 psl. - O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead! The Time needs heart 'tis tired of head: We're all for love," the violins said. "Of what avail the rigorous tale Of bill for coin and box for bale? Grant thee, O Trade! thine uttermost hope: Level red gold with blue sky-slope, And base it deep as devils grope: When all's done, what hast thou won Of the only sweet that's under the sun? Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh Of true love's least, least ecstasy?
32 psl. - Poet, Wisdom's Tongue, But Thee, O man's best Man, O love's best Love, O perfect life in perfect labor writ, O all men's Comrade, Servant, King, or Priest, What if 'or yet, what mole, what flaw, what lapse, What least defect or shadow of defect, What rumor, tattled by an enemy, Of inference loose, what lack of grace Even in torture's grasp, or sleep's, or death's, Oh, what amiss may I forgive in Thee, Jesus, good Paragon, thou Crystal Christ...
xxxvi psl. - Let any sculptor hew us out the most ravishing combination of tender curves and spheric softness that ever stood for woman ; yet if the lip have a certain fulness that hints of the flesh, if the brow be insincere, if in the minutest particular the physical beauty suggest a moral ugliness, that sculptor unless he be portraying a moral ugliness for a moral purpose may as well give over his marble for paving-stones.
24 psl. - OUT of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide.
45 psl. - DEATH, thou'rt a cordial old and rare: Look how compounded, with what care, Time got his wrinkles reaping thee Sweet herbs from all antiquity. David to thy distillage went, Keats, and Gotama excellent, Omar Khayyam, and Chaucer bright, And Shakespeare for a king-delight. Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt: Hand me the cup whene'er thou wilt; Tis thy rich stirrup-cup to me; I'll drink it down right smilingly.
34 psl. - ... and were still, breath-bound with waiting and wonder and fear. Then Alan the huntsman sprang over the hillock, the hounds shot by, The does and the ten-tined buck made a marvellous bound, The hounds swept after with never a sound, But Alan loud winded his horn in sign that the quarry was nigh. For at dawn of that day proud Maclean of Lochbuy to the hunt had waxed wild, And he cursed at old Alan till Alan fared off with the hounds For to drive him the deer to the lower glen-grounds: "I will kill...
124 psl. - I marvel how mine eye, ranging the Night, From its big circling ever absently Returns, thou large low Star, to fix on thee. Maria ! Star ? No star : a Light, a Light ! Wouldst leap ashore, Heart ? Yonder burns a Light. Pedro Gutierrez, wake ! come up to me. I prithee stand and gaze about the sea : What seest ? Admiral, like as land a Light ! Well ! Sanchez of Segovia, come and try : What seest ? Admiral, naught but sea and sky ! Well!
xxxvii psl. - My democrat, the democrat whom I contemplate with pleasure ; the democrat who is to write or to read the poetry of the future, may have a mere thread for his biceps, yet he shall be strong enough to handle hell, he shall play ball with the earth, and albeit his stature may be no more than a boy's, he shall still be taller than the great redwoods of California ; his height shall be the height of great resolution, and love and faith and beauty and knowledge and subtle meditation ; his head shall be...