Occupation: Poet Birth: May 12, 1828 Death: April 9, 1882
Sudden Light I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the l….
So Spring comes merry towards me here, but earns No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd With the dead boughs that winter still must bind,….
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky..
From perfect grief there need not beWisdom or even memory;One thing then learned remains to me -The woodspurge has a cup of three..
I am not as these are, the poet saithIn youth's pride, and the painter, among menAt bay, where never pencil comes nor pem.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: So this winged hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! cl….
The Wombat is a Joy, a Triumph, a Delight, a Madness!.
Gather a shell from the strewn beach And listen at its lips: they sigh The same desire and mystery, The echo of the whole sea's speech..
You have been mine before - How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar, your neck turned so, Some veil did fall, - I knew it a….
Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are..
If God in his wisdom have brought closeThe day when I must die,That day by water or fire or airMy feet shall fall in the destined snareWherever my ro….
Love is the last relay and ultimate outposts of eternity..
Love, which is quickly kindled in the gentle heart, seized this man for the fair form that was taken from me, the manner still hurts me. Love which a….
Your eyes smile peace..
Places that are empty of you are empty of life..
Her hair that lay along her back Was yellow like ripe corn..
The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank..
Beauty like hers is genius..
And Love, our light at night and shade at noon,Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns awayAll shafts of shelterless tumultuous day..
Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also call'd No-more, Too-late, Farewell..
Beauty without the beloved is a like a sword through the heart..