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That we may lift from out of dust
A voice as unto him that hears,
A cry above the conquered years
To one that with us works, and trust,

With faith that comes of self-control,

The truths that never can be proved 10
Until we close with all we loved,
And all we flow from, soul in soul.

THE EAGLE

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

From MAUD

XVIII

5

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5 Upon a pastoral slope as fair,
And looking to the South, and fed
With honeyed rain and delicate air,
And haunted by the starry head
Of her whose gentle will has changed my
fate,

And made my life a perfumed altar-
flame,

And over whom thy darkness must have

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As when it seemed far better to be born
To labor and the mattock-hardened hand
Than nursed at ease and brought to under-
stand

I have led her home, my love, my only A sad astrology, the boundless plan

friend.

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That makes you tyrants in your iron skies,
Innumerable, pitiless, passionless eyes,
Cold fires, yet with power to burn and
brand

His nothingness into man.

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Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them,

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Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

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Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while

All the world wondered: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke

Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not,

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

NORTHERN FARMER

OLD STYLE

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Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän?

Noörse? thourt nowt o' a noorse; whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän;

1 lying.

Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäle, but I I weänt saäy men be loiars, thaw summun beänt a fool;

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But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Marris's barne.2

said it in 'aäste;

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Dubbut looök at the waäste; theer warn't not feeäd for a cow;

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Thaw a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz,11 an'

an' choorch an' staäte,

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looök at it now

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I beänt wonn as saws 'ere a beän an yonder a peä;

I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy An' Squoire u'll be sa mad an' all-a' dear,

the lond.

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a' dear!

And I 'a managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year.

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3 tax.

11 anemones. 13 the assizes. 15 ewes.

12 one or the other.

14 furze.

16 this year.

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Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom,

Squoire's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled

'ull 'a to wroite,

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splendor and gloom.

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