Amp Levp A LONDON PLANE-TREE GREEN is the plane-tree in the square, Here from my garret-pane, I mark And spread her shade below. Among her branches, in and out, The dun fog wraps her round about; Others the country take for choice, BETWEEN THE SHOWERS BETWEEN the showers I went my way, The glistening street was bright with flowers; It seemed that March had turned to May Between the showers. Above the shining roofs and towers Hither and thither, swift and gay, The people chased the changeful hours; And you, you passed and smiled that day, Between the showers. By copse and hedgerow, waste and wall, He thrusts his cushions red; O'er burdock rank, o'er thistles tall, He rears his hardy head: Within, without, the strong leaves press, He numbers no observant friends, He drinks the blessed dew of heaven, To guard his growth the planets seven The spirits of the fields and woods He drinks the secret, stealing floods, And swills the volleying rains: And when the birds' note showers and breaks The wood's green heart within, He stirs his plumy brow and wakes To draw the sunlight in. Mute sheep that pull the grasses soft In surly majesty. No fly so keen, no bee so bold, And so when autumn winds blow late, He bows before the common fate, And drops beside his grave. Smile on, brave weed! let none inquire Let others toil for others' good, Thou hast brave health, and fortitude To live and die alone! REALISM AND truth, you say, is all divine; "T is truth we live by ; let her drench The shuddering heart like potent wine; No matter how she wreck or wrench The gracious instincts from their throne, Enormities, her vilest fears, And sound the sickliest depths of crime, And creep through roaring drains of woe, To soar at last, unstained, sublime, Knowing the worst that man can know; And having won the firmer ground, When loathing quickens pity's eyes, Still lean and beckon underground, And tempt a struggling foot to rise. Well, well, it is the stronger way! He deems that knowledge, bitter-sweet, She peers, she ventures; growing bold, She wonders, aching to be free, Too soft to burst the uncertain band, Till chains of drear fatality Arrest the feeble willing hand. Nay, let the stainless eye of youth AN ENGLISH SHELL I was an English shell, With a heart of fire in an iron frame, Ready to break in fury and flame, Out from the heart of the battle-ship, Into a land of foes : How was I baffled? I soared and sank Slowly the thunder died away; Sunk in the slothful sward! |