- Chaucer
O gracious morning eglantine,
Making the far old English ways divine!
Though from thy stock our mateless rose was bred,
Staining the world's skies with its red,
...
- Splitting
Morning.
Out from the hut at break of day,
And up the hills in the dawning grey;
...
- A Fragment
But, under all, my heart believes the day
Was not diviner over Athens, nor
The West wind sweeter thro' the Cyclades
Than here and now; and from the altar of To-day ...
- Home-woe
The wreckage of some name-forgotten barque,
Half-buried by the dolorous shore;
Whereto the living waters never more
Their urgent billows pour; ...
- White Paper
SNOWY-SMOOTH beneath the pen-
Richest field that iron ploughs,
Germinating thoughts of men,
Tho- no heaven its rain allows. ...